


Dragon Kissed

by Zakaira



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Adventure, Drama, M/M, Male Slash, Mpreg, Religion, Romance, dubcon, parthenogenesis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-04
Updated: 2014-11-07
Packaged: 2018-01-18 03:27:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 32
Words: 100,877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1413334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zakaira/pseuds/Zakaira
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Draco Malfoy, after losing most of his family, has retreated to a cave in the middle of a dragon reserve, in the hopes of receiving the kiss of the dragon spirits. He succeeds, but when a terrorist organization takes over the reserve putting his life in danger, Harry Potter comes to his rescue. Only Draco doesn’t want to go and is clearly hiding something. Matters are complicated when Draco is kissed a second time. Can Harry discover what is really going on with Draco and the dragon spiritualism that everyone in the reserve seems to believe in?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Author’s Note: I debated whether or not to include a warning for religion. Ultimately I decided in favor of it, since it is an element I, personally, would like to be warned about before reading a story. Therefore I would like to inform you that the religion in this story is one I made up. Also, unlike mass delusions in real life, the ones in this story turn out to be mostly true, which I fear sends the wrong message. When reading, please keep in mind that there are no morals in my stories, full stop.

* * *

* * *

 

Harry’s POV:

            Slogging through one of the more mountainous Hebrides islands, dodging rampaging dragons and dangerous dark wizards, I kept telling myself that I was doing this to rescue innocent civilians. It just so happened that one of these civilians in particular was the same Draco Malfoy I’d grown up with and almost killed during six year. Who he was didn’t matter, so much as the fact that he was registered to be living in a cave in the middle of the war zone. He was one of the innocents caught up in the cross fire. Regardless of who was trapped, it was my job to find said cave and portkey the victim to safety, now that the anti-apparition ward was established.

            Those caves weren’t hooked up to the floo, because they were out in the middle of nowhere. The population density of this island was extremely low, but there was a sufficient supply of caves and there were nature yahoos to fill them. That Draco Malfoy had become one of those nature yahoos content to live off of the land in a cave underneath a dragon reserve came as a surprise to most. But that cave had belonged to the Malfoy family for almost a millennium and was likely filled with every manner of Malfoy convenience. I highly doubted there was a substantial difference in the manner of life experienced at the Malfoy Cave versus the Malfoy Manor.

            Then there was the fact that that particular cave had one of the highest concentrations of natural dragon magic stored up in the ground, from thousands of years of dragons nesting on the site. Dragon magic was the mystical healing force with supernatural abilities that went beyond the realm of modern magic. The cave yahoos were always going on about it, when they came down from their caves that was. Some of them even claimed that the dragon spirits in those caves were capable of channeling the spirits of dead witches and wizards. Maybe that was what Draco Malfoy was after.

            Druella and Cygnus Black, Draco’s maternal grandparents, had contracted Spattergroit in their old age and died. Their daughter, Narcissa Malfoy had contracted the disease while taking care of her parents. Due to her vitality, it was thought that she’d make a full recovery. But after the war, many people had refused to do business with the Malfoys and that included apothecaries. Narcissa was forced to obtain the necessary medicine from a substandard source, who brewed it incorrectly, resulting in her death. Meanwhile, Lucius Malfoy was serving a life sentence in Azkaban for his role in the war. Abraxas Malfoy had died years ago from Dragon Pox. And that left the aging Iona Malfoy, Lucius Malfoy’s mother, as Draco Malfoy’s only free living relative.

            It was certainly within the realms of possibility that Draco Malfoy had gone out to his family’s cave in the heart of the dragon reserve to commune with his dead family. Maybe he couldn’t live without his mother and was seeking her advice, wisdom, or just her presence. Or maybe the Malfoys were of the religious persuasion that bought into the dragon mysticism and Draco was enhancing his spirituality up there in his cave.

            It didn’t matter to me so much why Draco Malfoy was in the cave, just that he was and that he was now stuck. Out in an island wilderness without a floo, apparition and brooms were the sole sources of transportation available. With the wizarding terrorists on the loose inside the preserve, brooms were no longer safe. And with the Ministry’s anti-apparition ward, which was put in place to prevent the terrorists from escaping, everyone who lived inside the caves was stuck inside. I volunteered to get them out; all of them.

            I started with the caves on the outskirts of the island, flying in with my broom and invisibility cloak, and finding the caves that were inhabited. It was hard work, especially with the dragons angry and on the rampage, which meant that a great deal of my time was spent avoiding them or running away from them. And I also had to be on the lookout for dark wizards, sometimes avoiding them, other times capturing them and taking them into Ministry custody, or just passing a report of their activity along to my fellow Aurors.

            The civilians along the border were the easiest to get to. It took time to convince the cave yahoos to leave the island, but the Ministry had a shelter set up to house the evacuated civilians and I came with a portkey ready to go; sometimes even two or three, if there were multiple inhabited caves in a region. It helped that the things were preprogrammed to activate at a certain time, so that I didn’t have to hang around the caves for endless periods of time while the occupants decided whether or not to go. Instead I told them when the portkey was leaving and left them the choice to come with me or not. Most of them chose to come. I’d have a day off, back in civilization on the mainland, and start the cycle again, moving to another sector on the map.

            I had left Draco Malfoy until last. This was for mostly practical reasons, because his cave was one of the center-most caves and therefor one of the hardest to get to. The other reason I had I left unspoken; it was personal, because we had a history. It was a complicated history and I didn’t know whether that would help me in this endeavor or not. On the one hand, he knows me and I saved his life multiple times, so maybe he will trust me. On the other, we never got on and there was a chance I might blow my cool. If I say the wrong thing, he might choose to stay and risk his life. But maybe the fact that I’d already successfully evacuated eighty-seven percent of this reserve would convince him that it was time to go, even if it was with me.

            It was a particularly hard slog up the mountain this time, complicated by the fact that I didn’t know exactly which cave was his. Many caves were distinctly delimitated on the map, while others just demarcated an area and the families who lived within. In the Malfoy case, they owned an entire valley and kept the exact location of their cave a well-kept secret. It wasn’t much of a valley, just a shallow slash between the three highest peaks on the island, with the mountain rising steeply on three sides, meaning that there was only one path in or out, even on a broom.

            I had to duck into each and every cave in that valley, see if there was a residence inside, before moving on to the next. Some of the caves contained wildlife, such as the one higher up the side of the mountain which contained a female dragon and her nest. I barely escaped that cave with my life and was covered in soot to prove it. This valley was one of the most densely populated areas in terms of dragons on the island, so after that mistake, I learned to steer clear of the dragons’ caves. The dragons tended to occupy the higher caves, which let out onto the side of the mountain, while humans tended to occupy lower caves, which could be reached on foot. Thus I decided to start with the lower level and work my way up.

            Then there were the humans; the very first ground level cave I tried at the entrance to the valley was a food supply bunker for the terrorists. Another cave had a pair of dragon poachers, who were there to steal dragon eggs and were on neither side of the war. Poachers were bad news for dragons, but they only hid from me, before going on their way. Then there was the terrorist, who was constantly on patrol, on the lookout for Aurors like me. He was a real threat, but with the right timing, my cloak, and my broom, I managed to avoid him.

            Worst of all was the weather, which I swear was conspiring against me. It rained almost the entire time and when it wasn’t rain, it was sleet or hale. At night it was hard to sleep, because of the roaring of thunder, the crackling of lightning striking the ground, and the bellowing of the dragons. During the day, it was dangerous to fly at times and always unpleasant. When I was forced to walk, the mud caught me in its damp wet hold and latched onto my boots, making each step an ordeal. And to make matters worse, I slipped and fell on the slick stone floor of the cave that proved to be right next to Draco’s. It used to remind me of Quidditch back in the day, but over the course of this mission I have grown to hate fall in the north.

            I knew that this cave was a wizarding residence the moment I stepped into the structure, although there was no door, window, or obvious entrance. The back of the cave was unusually flat, drawing to mind a wall, rather than a natural rock formation. The cave itself seemed far shallower than it should be and what was more, it was warm and dry. The area seemed to scream magic, over and above the background dragon magic, which happened to be particularly high in the immediate vicinity. A wizard lived here and given that I was in Malfoy Valley, that wizard must be Draco Malfoy.

            By the time I arrived at the entrance of Draco Malfoy’s cave, I wanted nothing more than to take a hot bath, enjoy a warm, filling meal, and sleep in a soft warm bed. Was that so much to ask after being out in the elements for eight long days in order to get here? Most of the cave yahoos offered me their various amenities. Draco didn’t. He let me wait on his porch for an hour, without so much as acknowledging my presence. When he finally did appear, it was a disembodied hologram projection of his head.

            “What are you doing here Potter?” Draco asked.

            “Rescuing you Malfoy,” I replied.

            “I don’t require rescuing. You may go.”

            I might have taken him up on that, if he hadn’t been the sole resident in this valley. It was simply too far to reach the next inhabited cave before my portkey was set to activate, so there was no point in leaving.

            “Are you not aware of the danger which has surrounded you? The Hrypa terrorist organization has claimed this island as their headquarters. They’ve murdered the rangers of the dragon reserve and have set the most dangerous dragons free.” The females, youngsters, and less troublesome males were always free to roam the island. The more dangerously aggressive full grown males, some of which had even broken free and rampaged neighboring muggle islands, were traditionally kept locked up so that they couldn’t cause any additional trouble. Those were the dragons the terrorists had set free in order to keep the Aurors out. The other more docile dragons had been riled up, stirring up even more danger. “This entire island has become a war zone and evacuation has been ordered. I have a portkey to transport you to safety and there is a shelter already in operation on the mainland.”

            “I am not interested. Kindly see yourself out,” Malfoy’s voice rang out, as the image of his face began to flicker and disappear.

            “Malfoy! Wait! This is serious! You have to leave,” I called after him, hoping it was not too late and that he could still hear me.

            I stayed there in that cave and waited. What choice did I have? My portkey wasn’t set to activate for another three days and the entrance provided me shelter from the elements. It was dryer and warmer than the other caves, due to several rather convenient charms. I had my knapsack on my back and from it I pulled my tent and my dinner. I’d been camping on and off for months and I’d camp three days more if I had to. I had enough food to last me for another month and even the filth from my earlier fall could be washed away with the right spells.

            A day passed before Draco Malfoy graced me with his pseudo presence once more. The image of his head crackled to life in my tent, right in front of my face and asked, “What are you still doing here Potter?”

            “I’m trying to rescue you, Malfoy.”

            “I’m not in need of rescuing. I came here of my own free will. I have enough provisions to last me for years.”

            “I could help you get your stuff together. I’ve already evacuated most everyone else from the island. It’s dangerous to stay; the Minister is considering drastic measures that would wipe out the dragon reserve.”

            “My cave offers me sufficient protection from these pestilent wizards that have been trespassing on my land. My house is sufficiently fortified to protect me even from a blast that would wipe out the surface layer of the mountain. If the Ministry sees fit to blow up my yard over a small band of outlaws making trouble, then I’ll sue. The Malfoy caves have been in my family for nine hundred thirty-seven years. I will leave when I am good and ready and not before then. When are _you_ leaving?”

            “Not for another two days; portkey you see. It’s the safest way out of these mountains. Why don’t you let me inside and I can update you on the situation topside?”

            “No. You don’t have my permission to camp out on my porch, so if you’d kindly relocate, I would appreciate it. I own all the land in this valley, but you’ll find a nice dry cave two miles to the north.”

            “It’s customary for Ministry personnel to be invited inside.”

            “Do you have a warrant Potter?”

            “No, but,” I started to say, but was cut off.

            “But no. I don’t have to let you in and I won’t. Please leave.”

            “I won’t leave. You don’t have to let me in, but I have every right to stay here on your porch. It falls under the reasonable protection from an imminent threat ordinance. I’m keeping an eye on the area and making sure of your safety, all from your porch.”

            Draco scowled, flickered, and proclaimed, “I don’t want you here Potter.” Then he was gone.

            I tried yelling and pounding on the rear wall of the cave, hoping to draw his attention. I wasn’t done speaking to him, even if he was. But it was to no avail, because Draco’s image didn’t return until the next day.

            “Why have you been making such a racket up here Potter? You’re bothering the house elves.”

            “Sorry, but I really need to talk to you. My portkey is leaving tomorrow and you need to go with me. This is your only chance to get out of here. I know you don’t want me to come in, but could you come out and talk to me?” I asked.

            “No. There is nothing left to talk about. The heroic thing to do in this case is to leave me alone.”

            “The heroic thing is to drag you to safety.”

            “That would constitute kidnapping and you’d lose your job.”

            “Okay, so I won’t kidnap you, I was only kidding. But if you’d so kindly come out here and have a simple chat with me, then I’ll leave tomorrow without you.”

            “This is sufficient for me. What do you want to say that you haven’t already said, Potter?”

            “Why won’t you come out? Are you hiding something Malfoy?”

            “No, but as you so studiously pointed out, it’s not safe up there. Plus it’s a long walk; I’m hundreds of feet underground.”

            “Well then I’ll just have to tell you like this. You need to know what’s going on above you.”

            “Go ahead Potter, I’m listening.”

            And so I told Draco all about what the Hrypa terrorists had done; the bombings, against both muggle and magical targets, the deaths, of witches, wizards, mermaids, and muggles, releasing the dragons, and the propaganda. The Hrypa organization was founded by a bunch of victims of the war with Voldemort; witches and wizards who’d lost their parents, spouses, children, brothers, and or sisters to Death Eaters in the name of blood purity. Their side had won the war, but never gotten what they deemed proper reparations. They were demanding them now.

            Then there was the egregiously violent and gory takeover of the dragon reserve three months ago, resulting in the almost complete decimation of the pureblooded MacFusty clan. The MacFustys had taken care of this preserve for centuries, but now the few remaining survivors had been evacuated to safety. That atrocity was topped only by the one committed against the merpeople who once lived in the system of rivers and lakes on the island. The merpeople were gone now, the bodies left behind the only record of the horror. Of course with merpeople, untold numbers of corpses were surely eaten by the local dragons or lost to the sea, so it was impossible to know precisely how many were slaughtered. That was what the Hrypa did when innocent magical beings stand up against terror; they wiped them out.

            Draco was clearly horrified by what he was hearing. The fact that the terrorist organization on his property was advocating genocide against purebloods was a concern. He promised to help however he could from the safety of his cave, which wasn’t much. Although, he did have monitoring charms all over the valley and provided me with valuable information regarding whereabouts of insurgents and locations of cashes of food and weapons. He even knew which dragons had been coerced to obey the terrorists and which had not. The location of Merpeople Communication Crystals and directions on how to activate said crystals was priceless and promised to give us new insight into exactly what had happened. My superiors would be very pleased with this intelligence report.

            When the facts ran out, Draco said that he had to go. I begged him to leave with me tomorrow, but again he refused. It seemed I would be going home alone this time.

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Author’s Note: This story is going to have more adventure and action than my typical story, although I won’t be focusing on the war, because that’s just backstory. Any guesses what Draco is hiding? Here’s a hint: it has to do with his dragon spiritualism religion.

Please Review!


	2. Chapter2

Harry’s POV:

            One last plea on the morning of my last day fell on deaf ears, as Draco Malfoy turned me down again. I packed up my tent and my supplies preparing to leave, when there was a sudden blast outside in the valley. I unsheathed my wand, donned my invisibility cloak, and went to investigate.

            At first I thought it was just an irate dragon; there were plenty of them in this valley, always angry and roaring about something. She was one of the largest Hebridean Black females I’d ever seen; at least thirty feet. I could see the anger in her violently purple eyes, as she roared and scorched the scarred Earth with flame. Rock fell from the side of the mountain when she whipped around her arrow-shaped spike at the end of her tail. Then she jerked her head in my direction and sniffed. The problem with invisibility cloaks is that they don’t prevent dragons from smelling you. The dragon whirled about and I had just enough time before running for my life to see that she had a rider; one of the Hrypa gang, no doubt.

            I ran back into the opening of the cave, not bothering with my cloak when it caught on a branch and got stuck. I left it where it fell and hid my body as much behind the rock as I could. As I curled my body inward, to protect my limbs, I began to think of protection spells. I had just enough time to cast a fire shield before the dragon and her rider were on me again. The blue and green of the flickering flames was pretty and was doubled by the reflection off of her shiny black scales. The dragon yahoos would be jealous if they could see me now; death by dragon flame was the noblest and most sacred way to die, according to their religion. Not many people got to experience death by dragon and fewer lived to tell the tale, as I planned on doing.

            I held my shield against the intense blast of heat and fire for as long as I could. The air in between us was visible with smoke; it rose and circulated, as the intense heat was distributed by air currents. The heat and soot burned my eyes, while the light blinded me, causing me to blink and squint, even from behind my shield. At first my shield began to flicker, letting bursts of flame through before solidifying again. The flames scorched my clothes, burnt my hair, and singed my flesh. The burns were so painful that I didn’t know how much longer I could keep going. If I survived this, the title saint would probably be added by the dragon yahoos to my list of unwanted honorifics.

            And then there was a bright burst of flame coursing passed my shield. My skin registered the heat and the pain right before I passed out.

 

Z

 

            It was pitch black when I woke up. I was on my bed, inside my tent, and a house elf was hovering over me. I was in pain, but not excruciatingly so, which was surprising given the dragon’s fire. I was contemplating the state of my body, trying to ascertain just how badly I was hurt, when it occurred to me that I was supposed to leave today. My portkey left at noon, when my watch now proclaimed it to be night. I’d missed my ticket home.

            “Oh shite!” I exclaimed, jumping up from the bed and hoping the manky old watering can would still work and knowing that it wouldn’t. It wasn’t that type of portkey. It couldn’t be, given that I was in a war zone and it was possible for the portkey to be intercepted by the enemy.

            “Mister Harry Potter must lie down. Lifton is tending to Harry Potter’s wounds, sir,” the house elf said, pushing me back into the bed.

            “But I’ve missed my portkey.” I was still reaching out for my knapsack, which was on the table nearby, right where I always left it. That in itself was strange, because I’d packed up this tent, including the table this morning and stored them inside that same knapsack. The elf must’ve unpacked for me and set my tent back up.

            “Master Draco Malfoy, sir, says that Harry Potter has already missed his portkey. Lifton is to be fixing Mister Harry Potter, so that he can go away, sir.”

            “How am I to go away without a portkey?”

            “With a broom, sir.”

            “Can I talk to your master? What are you doing to me anyway?” I asked, noticing that the elf was once again wiping my tender skin with his damp cloth. I watched as he dipped the cloth into a bucket of metallic lavender colored liquid and repeated the process. Then he rubbed the wet cloth on my skin, creating a tingling sensation that soothed away the pain. Right before my eyes that spot of burnt skin went from angry red to tender pink.

            “Master says it is a cure for dragon burns. Master saved your life, sir.”

            “How?” I asked. Risking his life to save mine didn’t sound at all like the Draco Malfoy I knew.  
            “He activated the anti-dragon ward. You were already burned and unconscious, but my very great and wonderful Master saved you from the worst of it. Master saved you from the human too, by sealing the entrance of the cave, sir.”

            “Where is your master now? How long did he stay with me?” I asked, not waiting for an answer, before asking another. “Did he give you this potion?”

            “Master is inside the cave. Master never left the cave. And yes, Master gave Lifton the potion and said to keep applying it until the burns completely heal, sir.”

            “Wait, let me get this straight: your master, Draco Malfoy, saved me by sealing up the entrance to the cave and activating a ward, all without leaving the protection of his hide-e-hole?” I asked incredulously. This was much more like the Draco I knew. Just add in a Daily Prophet article with an exclusive interview with the blond hero and it would all fit.

            “Yes sir,”

            I decided to let the elf finish treating my burns. As soon as he was done, I retrieved the old watering can and verified that there was nothing I could do to turn it back into a functioning portkey. Then I sent my patronus off to my boss, to tell him what happened. I didn’t have an owl with me, but I did have a protean charmed parchment that I normally used for communication. I could have used my parchment now, but I didn’t feel like digging it out of my knapsack.

            Lastly, I sent another patronus to my roommates, Ron and Hermione. The three of us were now living together in Grimmauld Place and they would be concerned that I’d not returned on time. It was the perfect arrangement, with my two best friends set up on the second floor and myself on the third. The first floor was common area. They kept discussing plans to buy their own place now that they were married and both made decent money. It was inevitable that they’d have kids and want a larger house. I hoped that didn’t mean I would be left alone, but I’d deal with it when the time came.

            I dreamt of Ron and Hermione that night. We were all still crammed into Grimmauld Place, only there were more of us. They had two kids, while I had three. When I woke, I could still hear the clear sound of the laughter of my young daughter ringing in my ears. She had my mother’s features, down to the green eyes and red hair, as I’d seen them in a picture of her as a young girl. If only that dream could become my reality…sure it might be possible if I married a nice witch and settled down, but after the disaster that was my relationship with Ginny, I’d stuck to casual dates with wizards.

            It was late morning before Draco bothered to contact me and interrupted my self-introspection. “I trust my elf has healed you sufficiently, Potter.”

            “Yes, thanks for saving me.”

            He didn’t acknowledge my thanks, other than with a curt nod. “When will you be able to fly out of here?”

            “I don’t know. I don’t even know what happened to my broom. And I have to know what’s going on outside before I can set off.” The entrance to the cave was sealed shut, as if a sheet of rock had always fitted so perfectly into the opening. That was a good thing, for now, because I had no doubt that the terrorists were still trying to get in.

            “Your broom was burnt badly. I am having Lifton repair it. I was hoping you had another.”

            “No, sorry. The emergency plan was to hold up in a cave until the portkey activated. Or if I missed the portkey, to escape on my broom.”

            “That was rather narrow sighted of you Potter; you didn’t even bring a boat. I suppose I will have to endure your presence on my doorstep until Lifton fixes your broom. Although I must warn you, there is a chance that broom in unsalvageable. You may have to hike out of here on foot and build a boat.”

            “What about you? Don’t you have a broom or a boat I could barrow? How’d you plan on getting out of here?”

            “No to the broom and the last person to barrow my boat never returned it. I apparated in and I plan on staying until I can apparate out again. It’s your Ministry which has imposed the restriction and you were the one sticking your nose into my business, even after I said you weren’t wanted, so don’t go blaming me for this.”

            “I wasn’t going to. But, um, since I’m staying, will you let me in now?” I asked hoping for the best, but knowing the answer wasn’t going to be what I wanted it to be.

            “No.”

            “Malfoy, I don’t understand why you won’t let me in. You saved my life yesterday, but you won’t let me into your cave? I’m trapped out here until your elf fixes my broom; you might as well let me in to wait.”

            “The answer remains no. You must never enter my residence, even if you think my life depends on it. My life depends on isolation.”

            “Why? What’s going on in there? Are you sick?”

            Instead of answering, Draco replied, “It’s none of your business. Just stay away or I will sue.”

            “Can we at least talk?”

            “What do you think we’re doing now?”

            “I meant again, like this. It’s going to be rather lonely if I’m stuck on your porch. How long have you been alone in there? You must be lonely by now.”

            “Fine, I will endeavor to speak with you once a day, if I remember. You have enough food to last you, I trust.”

            “I do; enough for another month.”

            “Let’s hope Lifton repairs your broom by then. If not, you’ll be going hungry, because I don’t have extra rations.”

            “I’ll start stretching it then.” I hoped it didn’t come to that. Then I’d remembered something he’d said before. “Wait, didn’t you say you have enough provisions to last you for years?” I asked.

            “I do, but only to last me for years.”

            “Well why don’t you share, and I promise to replace any provisions I use as soon as I can?”

            “I don’t have that type of provisions; mine are renewable and limited. I have a small indoor garden, which my elves tend, along with chickens and one milk goat. I don’t have enough for you.”

            It was rude of him to refuse to share, but then this was Malfoy I was dealing with and rudeness didn’t come as a shock anymore. It was the years of thankless Auror work that did it and the myriad of far worse behaved civilians. There was one particular old pureblood woman who I always remembered at times like these. She’d spat on me and called me a bloody wanker when I returned her kneazles from where it’d gotten itself stuck down a well. In comparison to her, Malfoy was the epitome of grace.

            “Alright, I’ll go on raids and steal from the terrorists’ stores if it comes to that,” I said.

            “Oh, and Potter?”

            “Yes?”

            “The entrance to the cave is securely sealed. It will remain sealed until the presence of dangerous dragons and humans are no longer detected in my valley. Please do not tamper with it.”

            “Alright. Could you let me know if and when you open it back up?” I will need to explore, in order to determine current enemy locations and plan my trip home. And if I was forced to stay past a month, I will need food.

            “Yes. Good day Potter,” Draco said, before once more flickering out.

            I returned then to the book I was reading. It was a good thing this tent came with a well-stocked library, because I just might need it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just got back from a talk by Richard Dawkins; it was the first time in real life I’d heard someone say the phrase, “Bugger off.” Among other things, he has a cool English accent :) 
> 
> So obviously something had to happen to keep Harry there with Draco or this story would’ve came to an end today. Next chapter Harry will get his first clue as to what is going on.  
> Please Review!


	3. Chapter3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The dub-con I promised in the warnings occurs in the following chapter. This is the elicit version, so if you are under the age of 18, please read the version of this story posted on fanfiction.

            Three weeks passed without a change with the terrorists, the dragons, my food situation, my broken broom, the location of my tent, or Draco Malfoy. My burns from the dragon were completely healed and the violent discoloration they caused had started to fade. I had a potion in my kit for reducing scars and it seemed to be working, not to mention the healing potion Lifton applied to my skin did wonders.

            The terrorists still maintained a presence in the valley outside the stone walls. Draco did deem me worthy to share his surveillance spells, allowing me to tap into the footage that showed the Hebridean Black who tried to burn me to a crisp and a single terrorist in a cave in this valley. I watched it almost constantly, trying to learn their movements, schedules, and patterns. There was also low resolution coverage of a wider area that allowed me some amount of knowledge regarding the terrorist activity outside of Malfoy Valley. Of key interest, was a food store located in a cave on the outskirts of the valley and a weapons store, which may contain brooms, that was located only a few miles to the north. I thought constantly of the raids I was planning on those two stores. The food would have to come first, but I needed that broom too and it would be good to take a cache of weapons out of the hands of the enemy.

            As for the food shortage, after my childhood with the Dursleys, it was second nature for me to go into food rationing mode. With ceasing all exercise and limiting my physical movements to lying on my bed reading, watching surveillance footage, and taking notes, I was confident that I could make my food stretch for two months. I still hoped it didn’t come to that, but I was preparing for that eventuality just the same. Sooner or later I would go on my first raid and obtain additional food, but until then, what I had would stretch.

            Lifton threw his elf magic at my broom and repaired it to the point where it looked like a broom. It even flew a little, with an uncomfortably tilted, jerking, shaking motion and producing worrisome smoke from the tail. But even with all that, I would still have tried to fly it if the thing would get more than a foot up off the ground. I had a book on broom repair I was reading now, in the hopes that I might have better luck. But from what I’d read so far, I didn’t have much hope of fixing my broom. To leave, it would either have to be an act from the Ministry, such as canceling the anti-apparition wards or sending in another Auror with a Portkey, or I would have to steal a broom.

            Draco kept to his word and contacted me each day, although not in person. He remained safe below ground in his cave doing Merlin knows what. I thought he would’ve been lonely and  eager for the conversation, but most days he only had twenty minutes to spare for me. For the most part, we talked about the terrorists and what they were up to, although I did slip in the odd personal question. I wanted to know what he was doing with all of his time, why he was up here in the first place, and why he wouldn’t leave.

            And I still wanted to know, because he was still refusing to answer all personal questions, but maybe that would change tonight. At least that was what I thought when I was lying in bed, about to go to sleep for the night and heard the noise. I left my tent to see the interior cave door, the one which led deeper into the cave and previously had only opened to allow the passage of Lifton the elf, rumbling and shaking. Lifton never came at night, always during the day; this was someone different. A tall figure with a head of white blond hair emerged, proving that my gut instinct was right. If he was coming to me, then maybe he was ready to let me inside and show me what he’s been working on.

            Moments later, Draco’s long strides brought him to within my range of smell. It was a strong, floral aroma that made my thought processes dim and shift. My forebrain shut itself off and gave control over to my lower brain with its basal urges and desires. Suddenly I was shrouded in a haze of lust and incredibly horny.

            “You’re the most beautiful creature I’ve ever seen,” I said breathily, looking into Draco’s deep grey eyes. They were bordered by the longest, thickest lashes I’d ever seen, only they were so pale as to be practically transparent. The blush on his cheeks matched his full red lips, which were opened slightly and moving with each breath.

            Draco’s head bent down in acknowledgement, but his eyes remained fixed on mine, as he looked at me through those lashes of his. He looked shy, or coy, or like a blushing virgin. If I’d been thinking straight, I would’ve found this behavior about as odd as a dancing Crumple-Horned Snorkack in a lake of molten lava. But I wasn’t thinking straight, not in the least.

            “I’ve ridden a dragon before,” I bragged. I don’t know why I said it. Later, I’d recall those words and cringe.  
            Draco didn’t cringe. He smiled, took my hand, and led me through the front door and the tunnel beyond.

            I imagined that the whole of the interior of the Malfoy Cave would be finished, with not a stitch of stone left uncovered by an ancient tapestry. What I found was a long, curvy, steeply downward slopping, narrow tunnel. There were points that were so low that we had to crawl, but although the journey was long and awkward, it barely registered in my mind. A magical glowing ball of light proceeded Draco, lighting our way and the journey seemed to past faster than it really did.

            Looks, facial expressions, and the tug on my hand by his were all that was needed, as not another word was spoken between us. My subconscious was thinking about fourth year, when the Death Eater disguised as Mad-Eye Moody imperiused me for the first time. This feeling was very similar to how I’d felt then, only what Draco was leading me to do wasn’t stupid; it was so hot I might’ve consented if I’d been able to. But my conscious mind was not there to receive the warning or consent and I was far too gone down an endless tunnel of lust and need to pull back.

            The fact that I was so incredibly turned on by a man was not new to me. After my disaster of a relationship with Ginny, I’d made the switch. I still found strong, harsh women attractive, but there was a psychological barrier in my brain that stopped me from going down that road, chasing after yet another Ginny or Cho. Now I chased cock. Like my women, I liked my men strong and domineering, which meant I normally ended up dating tops and having to bottom. I preferred to top myself, which was why none of my gay relationships had lasted very long.

            We were in Draco’s bedroom, or at least a bedroom. The only details I noticed were him, not the room or the bed I was pushing him down onto. We were snogging passionately, breaking only for quick gasps of breath. His hands were on my buttons and zippers, working me free of my clothing. His clothing amounted to a handsome dark green robe, which came apart with a tug at the tie on his waist. My mouth found his bare skin, licking and kissing. His mouth found my neck, sucking.

            I had a knee in between his legs, grinding our groins together and producing delicious friction. I wanted to keep frotting against him to completion and I would’ve, if he hadn’t stopped me with his hand. He moved one leg, spreading his legs wide, so that they surrounded mine. A jar of lubricant soared into his hands and he moved to prepare himself, but I stopped him, taking the lube from him. Finally the controlling bottom I’ve been looking for.

            Our need was too great to take our time; the preparation was rushed and the sex that followed was desperate. He was flushed down to his chest, with red blotches marring his pale scarred skin. It was just one scar, with many branches that matched the pattern I’d created with such regret in sixth year. But even though his scar took up much more area than all of mine combined, his skin was still lovelier and less flawed, because his had healed well. The scars were nothing more than a shiny white crisscrossing pattern, not the ugly burn marks that covered me. My skin was blotchy, because the burn from Slytherin’s locket was now joined by a myriad of dragon burns.

            He flipped us over, so that he was riding me, sending me into a state of pure euphoria. His technique felt absolutely brilliant. He didn’t slide up and down, but rather back and forth, maintaining his level of fullness, while snapping his hips and arching his back, to alter the angle. His face was expressive, showing pleasure and desire, while his mouth hung open and he panted for breath, his body straining to rock faster and harder. My face mirrored his, as my heart raced. We needed this, we had to have it, and it had to be now, right this very second. It was cathartic, like scratching an itch that had been building for years. It was probably the most passionate sex I’d ever had.

            The ending was blindingly brilliant. It came all too fast, but lasted longer than it had any right to. He arched his back and screamed, without being touched, and pushed me over the precipice with him. I couldn’t catch my breath as my lungs burned for oxygen and my muscles ached from exertion. It was too much and I couldn’t bear another thrust, but I wanted it to continue just the same, so I reached down and took him in hand. The moment my fingers touched his hot skin, he twitched violently and shuddered, sending exquisite vibrations down my shaft. I stroked him and his release kicked into overdrive, his limbs flailing about chaotically, as his cum continued to pulse from his dick, and his eyes rolled back in his head. My orgasm kept going too, prolonged by his thrashing underneath me. It was so intense it could only be described as mind-blowing ecstasy.

            When it ended, I was so exhausted that I was pulled into a deep sleep before my breath evened out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’d like to thank vickythecharmedfan for being the only one to review the last chapter! Feedback is extremely important in the writing process, especially this early on when the story is just starting to take form. I love your reviews girl!  
> So what did you all think of the lemon? Up next will be their reaction to waking up together and Harry will finally find out Draco’s secret. Harry will be left alone to wander Malfoy Cave; what do you think he should find hiding behind all that rock? Besides the secret that is. If Draco lives there, it must be fabulous and not just an ordinary cave.


	4. Chapter4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would like to thank Artemis and ShaeVizla for reviewing the last chapter! Your reviews are very much appreciated and help me improve the story.

            I was sleeping like a rock when he screamed and yelled. I felt the bed jostle underneath me, but I was in too deep to react, other than to slowly return to consciousness. I felt a breeze of cold air hit my skin, as the blanket was pulled away. The punch to my jaw was a shocking blow that roused me completely, my hand reflexively reaching up to cup my injured jaw. My eyes shot open and I grabbed my glasses. I then took in the sight of Draco Malfoy standing in front of me, looking thoroughly debauched and covering himself with the blanket. He looked pissed, then ill, and finally settled for panicked. He ran from the room, down the hall, through a side corridor, and continued on until I completely lost track of him, despite my best efforts to run after him.

            Now that I was awake, the horror of what had happened begun to sink in. I’d had sex with Draco fucking Malfoy. I went back to the room we’d slept in, in search of my far-flung clothing, fearing that he’d be back any moment and I’d still be naked. He’d hit me and maybe he’d come back to do it again. It occurred to me that he must’ve done something to me to get me into his bed and that I ought to be the one hitting him, but that was only a passing fancy and I didn’t really want to hurt him. What I remembered of the sex was bloody fantastic and I wasn’t the sort to look gift sex in the mouth; not when it’d been so long since I’d had a good shag.

            As I put on my clothes, I began to wonder what he’d done to me. It wasn’t exactly the same as the imperius curse, but it was close. It was more sexual. Entirely sexual might be a better way to put it.

            In the synthetic light of day, the room didn’t strike me as Draco’s bedroom. It had the impersonal feel of a hotel room, with none of Draco’s personal things on display. Once suitably dressed, I ventured out of the room to explore. The hallway outside the room was taller and wider than the tunnel that we’d traveled down to get here. Those antique tapestries I’d pictured were here, on the walls of the hallway, only they were more spectacular than I’d imagined. They were vivid scenes of the valley outside, the side of the mountain, and the nesting Hebridean Black dragons.

            I opened doors as I went, peering into an endless number of hotel rooms, generic sitting rooms, and the odd, empty study or two. The walkway intersected with another two walkways of similar size and a third walkway that was quite a bit larger. I went down one way and found that the first door on the left led to a large private library, while the first door on the right led to an equally large drawing room. The other two doors led to a loo and a closet. After that, the antechamber of a hallway narrowed down into the narrow stone passage from which I’d come the night before.

            Not wanting to see myself out, I turned around and headed back the other way. This time I would choose one of the other two ways. I studied my choices, looking down at the rug and then at the walls for clues. My work as an Auror had taught me to cue into the little details, like that the middle felt abuzz with elf magic, while the alternative only resonated of the dragon magic that was all around. The carpet looked more worn in the middle direction. And finally the middle way contained something the other ways didn’t: family portraits of blond haired, pale, pointy faced witches and wizards. I chose the middle.

            The middle walkway sported many large, opulent rooms, including a dining room. Judging by the magical residue, an elf had recently cleaned up a mess on the rug in that dining room, indicating that it was where Draco ate. There was another door off of the dining room and judging by the clanging of pots and pans, the sizzling of breakfast, and the smell of eggs, it led to the kitchen. There would be house elves that way, I knew, but I didn’t want to confront one right now. If I did, they might stop me from wandering around the house or worse, tell Draco what I was doing. I’d been trying to get inside this cave dwelling for over three weeks and now that I had this opportunity, I was not going to cut it short.

            I went out into the hallway, where I found another bathroom, a tearoom, and several storerooms. The walkway descended down and around, curving back the way I’d come, only a level lower. Here I found another tearoom, a study which appeared to be heavily used, a sitting room bursting with Draco’s magical signature, and a large indoor garden of all things. The plants looked rather pathetic, as did the goat that was sleeping amidst them. Behind the garden was a door that judging by the clucking sounds, led to a chicken coop.

            Going back the way I came, I found the main hallway again and returned to my exploration. This time I found another loo, several closets, and a fancy drawing room that hadn’t been used in years, which was full of knickknacks, trophies, diplomas, and awards. Then I came to another meeting of the hallways and had to choose.

            I continued forward and found that the pathway narrowed and began to descend steeply. The air grew colder and smelled moist. I could hear the sound of water. I had a feeling that this wasn’t the right direction to go to find Draco, but was curious as to what could possibly be down here. I followed the path around a sharp turn, down steps cut into the rock, and found myself in the gaping cavern of an underground river. There were coves gorged out of the rock, creating a large calm area, like a pond without the vegetation, and a smaller bathing pool.

            The underground river was spectacular to behold, but Draco wasn’t here, so eventually I turned around.Back at the intersection, I chose the hallway on the left this time, only to find a suite of uninhabited rooms. These rooms had been lived in once and personal effects remained in place, but the whole wing had the air of disuse to it. I turned around and set off to explore the only remaining option.

            The first room was a children’s playroom. It was filled with the type of little kid toys that Teddy had loved back when he was three. The most shocking part was that these toys were all fairly new and obviously recently played with. There was a feel of magics that hadn’t been in the other rooms, or if they had, they’d been too subtle to stand out. Standing in that room, I started to imagine that I could hear the high pitched squeal of young children and the nattering of an elf.

            It was a loud bang that jostled me out my confusion over the playroom. It came from behind one of two doors that connected with said room. I opened that door and found a nursery, complete with two blond Malfoy toddlers and a female elf. The elf was putting out flames from the carpet in that moment and then proceeded to vanish the fallen candle and pick back up the knocked over candelabra, before placing a new candle in it and lighting it.

            The toddlers were absolutely identical and looked like younger versions of Draco. Judging by the styled mops of wispy blond hair on their heads and their effects that were strewn around the room, I’d say they were boys. They were adorable and dressed in matching olive green robes, one with a red cauldron on the front, and the other with blue. They had been running around the room with their red and blue, respectively, socks flailing about in their hands, but now they were standing stalk still, staring at me with their thumbs and forefingers in their mouths.

            The one in blue squealed, pointing a wet finger at me.

            The red one turned to the blue one, nodded, and pointed his own wet finger at me in turn.

            “Hi,” I said, not having anything else _to_ say to a discovery like this. Obviously these two boys were what Draco kept secret and they were also what was keeping him busy.

            The red boy startled and his jaw dropped, before he ran behind his brother.

            The blue boy said, “Hi,” back, his index finger sneaking into the crook of his mouth.

            “What’s your name?” I asked in the voice I used for little kids. After Teddy, there was a never ending stream of Weasley children around, so I had some practice.

            His answer was garbled by the fact that his fingers were in his mouth. It sounded like there was a B in there, but I couldn’t be certain. I looked up as the girl elf, who had just now finished cleaning up the spilt wax and repairing the singed carpet, stepped forward and bowed. Unlike Lifton, she bore a resemblance to Dobby.

            “They is Masters Broderick and Roadrick, sir.” She pronounced both two syllable names with the long o more common in the wizarding world, not the short o used amongst muggles. “Master Draco be leaving Sotty with orders to get the little masters up to breakfast in the morning, sir. Master Draco is not telling Sotty to expect the Great Harry Sodding Potter for breakfast. Master _is_ giving Sotty direct orders to never lick the Great Harry Sodding Potter’s shoes, sir,” the elf said, making Sodding sound like Harry’s middle name.

            “Don’t worry…Sotty, is it?” I asked and she nodded. “I don’t want you to lick my shoes.”

            “Then _why_ is you here, sir?” She asked it like getting my shoes licked by a Malfoy house elf was the only logical conclusion one could make as to my motivations behind being in this house.

            “I came to visit Draco. We’re old friends,” I fibbed.

            “Master Draco is in his bath. Sotty is to be having the little masters ready for breakfast, sir.”

            That sounded like as much of a dismissal as an elf was capable of, so I decided to leave her to her work. “And where is that?”

            “Right through that door, of course, sir,” she replied pointing to one of the five doors off of the nursery.

            I nodded to the elf and walked to the indicated door, taking one last look back at the twins. They looked so much alike and so much like Draco at the same time. Draco had almost no living family, so there was no possible explanation for their existence other than that they were Draco’s children. This thought occurred to me, but was immediately dismissed as being impossible. If Draco Malfoy got married, it would be in the papers. If he had twin boys, inside or outside of wedlock, it would be in the papers. If his children were living here with him, it would be on my official report of the residents in this area. It just wasn’t possible.

            The only logical conclusion was that Draco had distant relatives who just happened to be visiting when the terrorists took over. I would find the parents in one of the yet unsearched rooms. Whatever the case, I’d have to ask him about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The twins are what Draco’s been hiding and the result of the first time he was kissed by the dragon spirits. Up next Harry and Draco will have a little chat about last night…  
> Please Review!


	5. Chapter5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would like to thank Kiki for reviewing the last chapter! Your review kept me motivated to finish this chapter!

            The only logical conclusion was that Draco had distant relatives who just happened to be visiting when the terrorists took over. I would find the parents in one of the yet unsearched rooms. Whatever the case, I’d have to ask him about it. I shook my head to clear it and proceeded through the door into what most differently was his personal bedroom. The room was immaculately clean, but his things were everywhere. A set of his freshly laundered clothes was sitting on the chest of drawers, next to several bottles of cologne, and a box filled with expensive masculine jewelry, such as watches and cufflinks. There was a stack of books on the bedside table, next to a photo of Draco and his parents and another of Draco and a pair of twin baby boys who resembled the toddlers in the next room.

            Draco wasn’t in his room, but from there I could hear the sound of running water and see the light shining through the crack of yet another door. Obviously he was taking a shower, leaving me time to snoop around his room. Maybe I’d find out how the boys were related to him or a clue as to how he controlled me last night. Or maybe it was just my long-term obsession with all things Draco-related that had me snooping. Either way I started looking around more thoroughly.

            The top book in the stack was on dragon magic, which made sense given our current location. The second was on the dragon mysticism religion, which supported the hypothesis that Draco was here for spiritual reasons. And the third book was on veela, which made me think that he possibly had used the veela allure to seduce me, but that couldn’t be. He wasn’t a veela and he wasn’t even female. Furthermore, I was immune to the veela allure, wasn’t I? I admit I was somewhat affected the first time I ever saw them, at the Quidditch world cup, but I wasn’t as bad as the others. And I’ve always been completely unaffected by Fleur and her veela cousins. That explanation just didn’t work.

            Next I opened the drawers on the bedside table to find certain personal items Draco wouldn’t want me seeing. They were the type of thing a bottom might keep around for when they got lonely. I hadn’t really thought about the fact that he’d bottomed last night, but I thought about it now. He was so bossy and commanding that I didn’t think he’d be a bottom, but then he was a bossy and commanding bottom, even though he hadn’t said a word. It was like he was running the show and I was a puppet on a string; I was just lucky that it turned out to be such a good show.

            I stayed there by the bedside table, staring off into space and thinking about last night, until I heard a noise come from the bathroom. The water was still running and the light was still on, but I was sure the sound was a sob. It was a sound of pain or frustration. I instinctively jumped up and pressed my ear to the door, to see if there was a serious issue, like maybe he’d hurt himself.

            If only I had a pair of George’s Extendable Ears, I’d be able to tell exactly what was going on behind that door. But even with my handicap, I was able to make out another sob and some garbled muttering. I thought, “Bloody Potter,” “Stupid self-righteous arsehole,” “Stupid tosser,” and “Bloody wanker,” were among the mix. It sounded like he was muttering about me. If that was the case, he wasn’t very happy with me.

            “Draco?” I called tentatively, having no other options occur to me. “Are you alright?”

            There was a frustrated scream in response that made me think I was supposed to let myself out. I didn’t know how to respond to that, other than to run in the other direction. I didn’t want to do that, so I stayed.

            There were more noises, starting with what I thought was another sob, followed by the bang of a fist hitting the wall. Then there was some muttering, as the sounds of running water decreased and then stopped altogether. That was followed by scuffling noises, before Draco actually said something that I could hear. “What the _fuck_ are you still doing here Potter?” It sounded like he was just on the other side of the door.

            “You didn’t tell me to leave,” I offered truthfully, but leaving out a lot.

            There was a grunt of frustration, followed by a thump, and then the words, “I didn’t invite you in either. In fact, I clearly recall telling you never to come in. I told you it was a matter of life and death for me and yet you _still_ chose to violate me.”

            “Whoa, hold on second. You _did_ invite me in. You came and got me from my tent. You did some sort of weird voodoo on my head, so that I wasn’t even thinking about what I was doing. It was like you imperiused me or something. Not that I’m complaining; I’d just prefer it if we could do that while leaving my free-will on next time,” I replied. I wasn’t sure I wanted there to be a next time, but it had been such a great experience that part of me wanted to repeat it, even if it was with Draco Malfoy.

            “First of all, there will _not_ be a next time, Potter, not _ever_. Second, I didn’t do it. I have no control over it. That’s why I was trying to keep everyone away; so it wouldn’t happen again.” I heard a harsh intake of breath, as if this had cost him a great deal to admit.

            “So this has happened before?”

            “Once.”

            “And what causes it?” I waited for a response, but when there was none, I asked, “Draco?”

            There was another sound, but I couldn’t tell if it was another sob, a groan, or a scream.

            I was growing increasingly concerned by how upset he clearly seemed to be. If what he was saying was the truth, he hadn’t consented to the sex either. And while it didn’t really bother me, it seemed to bother him quite a bit. Maybe he wasn’t gay or maybe he just had a problem with me specifically. Given what I saw in his bedside table, I was leaning towards the latter. “Draco? Could you come out and talk to me? We could have some tea,” I offered.

            “Are you fucking shitting me, Potter? You force me to have sex with you and then you want me to sit down for a nice cup of _bloody tea_?”

            “Hey, I was forced too.”

            There was a sound of indignation. “I _warned_ you! But you didn’t listen, because you _never_ listen. You’re Bloody Wanker Potter and you can do whatever you want, including coming into my _sanctuary_ , the only place where I’m safe from tossers like you, uninvited.”

            “You warned me, but you didn’t tell me to watch out for your psycho mind control, Malfoy.”

            “I _thought_ that you were immune to psycho mind control. It was in all of the papers that even the Dark Lord couldn’t imperiuse you. And there was that Ministry gala with the veelas and you didn’t even bat an eyelid. I thought I didn’t have to worry about that with you. I thought that if something like that happened, you’d think and remember my warning. I thought you’d get the hint and stay out of my bloody house.”

            That Ministry gala with the Bulgarian veelas was years ago. It was a few years after the war, after the trials and Draco’s acquittal, but long before he’d gone into isolation in this cave. It was one of the last times I’d seen him until now. Like all galas, I’d found it interminably boring and had only attended due to social pressures.

            “I _am_ immune! That’s what has me tripping out so much, because I’m immune to most mind control, but not this. Whatever this is, I couldn’t fight.”

            “Well don’t you go blaming me! I warned you.” He said the last three words like a plea, with a little whimper on the end; what for I didn’t know.

            “Right, so it wasn’t either of our faults. Now why don’t you come out and we can talk face to face. We can figure out what we’re going to do about this,” I offered.

            “I’m not dressed. My clothes are in my room; I’m not used to having intruders in the house.”

            “Do you want me to get them for you?”

            “No, I want you to go away.”

            “Alright, how about I meet you in the dining room for breakfast?”

            “No!” The word was shouted out too quickly, revealing that he was still trying to cover something up.

            I wasn’t sure why he’d be covering up something in the dining room. That elf had said she was taking those boys there to eat. If young children were allowed in, it couldn’t be that bad, could it? Or maybe the children were what he was trying to hide. “Is this about those two little boys?” I asked.

            “I’m going to kill you Potter. If you ever tell a single being, human, magical, or otherwise, I will hunt you down and rip you apart piece by piece.”

            “Why? Who are they to you? Why are they here?”

            “They’re my sons; they were born here.”

            “How is that even possible?” How was it possible that no one knew and that the papers had never found out?

            There was the sound of a groan, followed by yet another thump. “Just go wait in my sitting room and I’ll meet you there once I’m dressed,” he said.

            I didn’t know which room he meant, because there had been a number of sitting rooms. All I had was a vague idea that it was likely one of the rooms off of the main hallway on this level. But I didn’t have to go searching for it, because one of Draco’s elves, Upwood, led the way. Upwood was a very old elf who looked like a wrinkled version of Dobby.

            I told upwood as much, to which he replied, “Dobby was my son, sir. Broke my Bonnie’s heart, he did. Dobby was the worst son an elf could have.” Then he wandered off muttering about insubordinate children, black sheep, and disgraceful elves.

            I looked around the room, taking in the baby photos of Draco’s sons that were displayed on the walls and a pair of large portraits of Lucius and Naricssa Malfoy.

            “So the dragon spirit has seen fit to taint our lines with Potter scum,” Lucius’ portrait announced.

            “Now Lucius, dear, it’s already happened. There is nothing we can do about it. Surely you don’t want to alienate Mister Potter,” Narcissa’s portrait rebuked.

            “What are you talking about? What dragon spirit?” I asked.

            “The dragon spirit is all around us. You are blind if you cannot see it,” Lucius replied hotly, sounding much more like a hippy than the real Lucius did. I wondered how the real Lucius would respond to meeting this odd portrait; probably burn it.

            “Right,” I replied.

            I found a comfortable seat and waited, with Lucius glaring and Narcissa smirking at me. Draco left me waiting longer than I thought he’d need to get dressed, but maybe he had other things to do first, like see his children. I was bored and impatient at first, considering whether or not to leave the room and go wandering around again. But then I struck up a conversation with Narcissa’s portrait and lost track of time. Narcissa told me all about the dragon mysticism religion and the story of when the Malfoys had converted.

            There once was a Malfoy couple unable to conceive children. The Malfoys were still relatively new to England, having come over from France less than a century before and had thought that the dragon mysticism was just a bunch of codswallop. But dragon mystics preached of the healing powers of dragon magic, including the power to heal fertility problems, and being desperate, they gave it a try. Malfoys never did anything halfway, so they bought the most prime section of land within the nesting grounds of the Hebrides Islands; the reserve was later built around them. And within a year, they had a brand new Malfoy heir. They had believed ever since.

            “And now the dragon spirits have provided my Draco with two heirs, when there was no prospect of children on his horizon,” Narcissa concluded, just as Draco walked in.

            “Yes, my permanent little reminders from the first time this happened to me do make nice heirs. They’re the only good part about all this dragon dung,” Draco revealed. He looked much more composed than he’d sounded earlier. He was dressed sharply and seemed well put together, although he stood well away from me. When I stepped forward, he stepped back, maintaining that distance. I couldn’t say that I blamed him, after last night. I didn’t think it would happen again, but part of me wondered if it would if only he’d step a little closer.

            If a set of twins was what he got from his last such encounter of this nature, then the fact that he’d been so upset about last night suddenly made more sense. The first time it hadn’t ended with the sex and this time he was probably imagining that he would now be stuck with my kid.

            I rushed to reassure him, “You don’t have to worry about that with…” I gestured, indicating the pair of us with the movement of a finger. “Er, last night. We’re guys, so there’s no way that sort of thing could happen.”

            I wanted him to agree with me, to nod his head, or say something. He didn’t and I kept rambling. “Oh, and it won’t happen again. I’ll, um, I’ll know what to expect and I’ll fight it. I’ll be able to throw it off, for sure. Er, unless you want it to…happen again, I mean. It wasn’t…” The scalding look he gave me made me stop that train and revert to my earlier rambling. “No, it won’t happen again.”

            “That’s right, it won’t, because you’re leaving right now and never coming into my house again,” he said.

            “Right now, right now?” I asked.

            “Yes.”

            “But I could stay and um, help. You don’t need to hide your boys from me, I already know about them. I could, er, help with the garden. It looked a bit dead and I have a green thumb; I could get it going again, producing more food.” It was a large garden and if those plants were properly taken care of, they could be producing enough food to support us all.

            “No, Potter. Winter’s coming and the crops have mostly been harvested. How do you suppose to grow more food in the dead of winter?”

            “Well it’s indoors, so it doesn’t matter what season it is, does it? You have artificial lighting.”

            “No, I have a magical transference of lighting. That room is lit by the sun. The days are just as short as they are outside and the light is dimmed by the ubiquitous cloud cover that predominates this region during this part of the year. Furthermore, making the attempt will waste nutrients and minerals in the soil, making the spring harvest suffer. I wasn’t lying when I said I don’t have enough food for you.”

            “But that’s a big garden, it surely supports more than one person.”

            “Yes it does, and if you haven’t noticed, there are three wizards living here, along with elves, chickens, and a goat.”

            “There must be a way…”

            “There is no way, not during the winter. Winters are harsh up here Potter and thanks to the Ministry, my elves were prevented from leaving this cave since summer. Normally I send them out to buy a few sacks of grains during the fall, so we are in fact surviving off of less food than normal.”

            “Look, I’m sorry about that. I have food for now and I’ll go on raids and get more before I run out.”

            “How can you, with that dragon residing in the cave above this one?”

            “Let me worry about that. I do dangerous shit like this all the time these days.” Draco’s face contorted in distress. “What’s wrong?”

            “What’s wrong? How can you ask me that?” he asked incredulously. There was a pause as he waited for a response, but when all I did was sputter, he continued. “We had _sex_ last night, Potter! I had _Savior dick_ up my _arse_ for Salazar’s sake! If I could get to St. Mungo’s, I’d have them erase the memory from my mind to purge my poor brain of the defilement that you caused.”

            I wasn’t sure how that was linked to what I’d said. Maybe I’d reminded him of how heroic I was and that was offensive to him or something.

            “Sorry,” I offered.

            “Just go. Why are you still here? I’d have my elves apparate you away from me if that anti-apparition ward of yours didn’t apply to elves too. Do you have any idea how _awful_ it is to have to wait for elves to _walk_ around this cave?”

            It was now standard procedure to deploy elf anti-apparition wards whenever their human equivalents were used. That was a direct result of my escape from Malfoy Manor during the war. Every detail of the war had since been analyzed, evaluated, processed, debated, and turned into laws and Ministry policy. I decided not to mention any of that, in case he didn’t already know. “Um, if I go, can I come back? It’s lonely up in my tent and you have plenty of room.”

            “No, but I’ll keep visiting you.”

            “In person?”

            “No, it’s too far. I don’t even know how I made the trek twice last night.”

            “Then let me make it. I promise not to wander. I’ll stay on the upper lever. We can have tea in one of those tea rooms up there.”

            “I’ll think about it.”

            “I can help you with whatever you’re working on or with the children,” I added, but that didn’t seem to be the right thing to say.

            “Stay away from my children, Potter! Don’t you _dare_ go near them!” Draco sounded like an angry mother bear.

            “Ah, okay. You’re sons are off limits, I can respect that.”

            “See that you don’t forget it.”

            “I won’t. Does that mean I can come over again? I promise not to go near your kids.”

            “Only if you leave now.”

            It was a steep bargain, but I took it, because I didn’t think he’d offer a better one. I agreed and he called Lifton, who escorted me back up to my tent. Now that I was fully conscious, I realized just how bloody long the tunnels were. It was a steep uphill climb that curved back and forth as we ascended. The worst part was the rather long stretch with a ceiling that was so low, even Lifton had to bend over and I flat out had to crawl. But despite the ordeal, I still wanted to do it again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Draco did have some idea that something like this could happen again, having already experienced it once, but is clearly more upset. This is because he is more susceptible to mind control and thus even more out of it than Harry.  
> Up next Harry will make his raid on the terrorists’ food cache.  
> Please Review!


	6. Chapter6

            It took me another week to decipher the pattern of movement of the terrorist and his dragon. A week after that, I had my plan for my first raid all worked out. The cache cave was just outside of this valley. On foot with the snow on the ground, it would take me an hour to slog there and another to slog back. With a half an hour leeway, I could be there and back with food in two and a half hours. The terrorist was gone for four hours every Friday at exactly the same time. The trouble was that the dragon normally stayed behind. But according to Draco, the dragons spent the last three days of this month at a social gathering at the highest peak of the mountain. That three day window included a Friday eight weeks after my arrival in Malfoy Valley.

            It came as a surprise, but Draco actually let me back into his cave-house to discuss the plans for my raid. He showed me the scrolls he had documenting the biannual congregation of dragons. I showed him my notes on the terrorist’s schedule, focusing on my four hour window on Fridays. He showed me a detailed map of the area, which was much more zoomed in than the map I had. I showed him where it was the terrorist was flying, to a meeting with other terrorists on the other side of the mountain. And we agreed that the plan would work.

            It was a cordial meeting in a large little used drawing room on the upper floor. Like our last meeting, he kept his distance. Twice he excused himself to deal with other matters. Once it was because an elf had signaled that there was a problem relating to the children. He dealt with the scraped knee and returned, without giving me so much as a peak at his kids. The other time he left the room came out of nowhere and no explanation was given. He burped, excused himself, and came back. Maybe he had gas and experiencing gas in public wasn’t something purebloods did. It was probably considered impolite or something. Whatever the case, he returned after a time and we finished our meeting.

            The day before the designated Friday, our problem dragon left, along with all of the other dragons. Even the ones with baby dragons went, with their broods of fledglings that had just learned to fly. They flew up the mountain to the highest peak, just as Draco had predicted. The mass migration of dragons was a sight to see, even if they didn’t go that far. The terrorist left on his broom late Friday morning, just as I predicted. And I executed my raid flawlessly, dodging the two remaining poachers without incident and making it back to the Malfoy Cave with a month’s worth of food. I was scraping the barrel of my food stores, eating even less than before and scrounging toast from Draco. But now I wouldn’t have to take food from him and if I stretched it, it could last me another two months. By then winter would be over and hopefully our confinement too.

            Lifton was waiting for me at the front door when I returned. “Master Draco has sent me to escort you into our home, sir,” Lifton said.

            “Right, just let me put this food in the cellar in my tent,” I said.

            “Might Auror Potter bring some of the food to Master Draco, sir?”

            “I thought he had food. Is he out?”

            “Master Draco is not out, but he hasn’t been getting enough, sir. He’s grown sick with hunger, sir.”

            When Draco told me he had no food to spare, I didn’t think he meant that he was two pieces of toast a day shy of starving to death. He certainly didn’t look like he’d lost weight at our strategy session. But then it occurred to me who it was we were talking about. This was the same Draco Malfoy who’d made a broken arm sound like he almost died. This was the boy who whined and moaned at every little Quidditch injury. Maybe he’d lived such a sheltered life that he’d never experienced hunger before.

            “How bad is he?” I asked.

            “Master is sick two or three times a day now, sir.”

            That was a funny way to put it, unless… “Sick, as in throwing up Lifton?”

            The elf nodded, his long ears bobbing up and down with his head. “Lifton is not to be telling Harry that, sir. Lifton will have to punish himself.”

            “Why _did_ you tell me Lifton?”

            “So you could help him, Harry Potter. You have food and Master needs more food, sir.”

            “How do you know that? If he’s vomiting, he probably has a stomach bug, in which case food won’t help.”

            “He was sick like this before, sir. We elves didn’t know that we weren’t feeding him enough. We elves started feeding him more and he recovered.”

            “Alright, what sort of food should I bring then? Something easy for his stomach, yeah?”

            Lifton asked for grains: wheat, barely, and rice. They were the items they were the lowest on, because the Ministry anti-apparition ward had prevented them from buying grains in preparation for winter. I was hungry and wanted to eat soon, so I decided to grab a few more items and have the elves cook them up for lunch. I hadn’t had meat in so long that the hunk of lamb was irresistible along with some veggies.

            I put the rest of the food away in my tent and discovered a message that had come for me from the Ministry while I was away. I was still in regular communications with them through my protean charmed parchment. Luckily this message was less than a page long, so nothing was lost by my absence. I copied it over to a fresh sheet of parchment with a spell, taking it with me to show Draco. I handed the sacks of grains, lamb, and carrots to the elf and followed him down the long, narrow tunnel. Lifton walked me to the same drawing room in which Draco and I had met last time, before heading off in the direction of the kitchen.

            Ten minutes later the elf was back with Draco, which was odd, because Draco had never required an elf escort before. He looked paler than usual too or maybe it was that his face was flushed in fever, but something was definitely different. He sat down in a high-backed chair on the other side of the room from me. Lifton handed him a cup of tea, which he sipped, before looking up at me.

            “The raid was successful, I take it?” Draco asked.

            I told him it was and filled him in on the details. It was a bit boring with the way everything had worked out and I was anxious to ask him about his health. As soon as he paused for another sip of tea, I asked, “Are you alright Draco? You look rather ill.”

            He nodded, “I’ve been feeling under the weather, but it’s nothing that Bonnie’s lamb, carrot, and barely soup can’t fix. Thank you for providing the ingredients, by the way.” He spoke slowly and his voice sounded spacey, confirming his illness, although he didn’t sound stuffy, nor did he cough.

            Soup wasn’t what I had in mind. There was enough meat for a roast, but given his illness, maybe soup was best.

            “Is it because I’ve been taking your toast?” It seemed implausible to me, but that is what the elf had said.

            “In part. We have a reduced supply of grains already and without that toast, I fear my diet was unbalanced. Elves eat only crumbs and bugs and the boys are too little to go without, so all of the food I gave you came from my rations.”

            “An unbalanced diet doesn’t normally cause this type of illness,” I pointed out. He looked really sick, which was something that hunger didn’t do in all of my experience with it. If it did, the muggles probably would’ve noticed that the Dursleys were starving me.

            “I suspect I would’ve come down with this either way. The poor diet is making it harder for me to fight it and making me weaker.”

            That made more sense, so I let the subject drop. We talked then about the message I’d received from my boss. It wasn’t good news. Apparently the terrorists were gaining support amongst the muggleborns and there were signs that another militia group in southern Norway was considering joining the fight. Up until now the militia group hadn’t cost any lives and were relatively peaceful in their call to arms. But if they joined the Hrypa terrorists inside this reserve, then that would extend the siege indefinitely.

            Draco was of the opinion that the Ministry should be doing more. I wanted it over, but I understood how hard it was to contain the island reserve, much less subdue it when the terrorists had dragons on their side. He stopped disagreeing with me and I thought I was winning him over to my way of seeing things, only to have him jump up and run to the nearest loo. I followed him, vanishing the few splotches of puke on the rug as I went. I guess he really was sick.

            He slammed the door shut behind him and locked it, so I couldn’t follow him into the loo. I could hear what was going on from my side of the door, so I knew he was vomiting. I banged on the door and asked if there was anything I could do to help. All I heard in response was the sound of retching. Thinking that maybe his elves could help him, I went in search of the kitchen. There were always house elves in the kitchen.

            I went through the dining room to reach the kitchen, only to be stopped in my tracks by what I was seeing. Sotty was there with the twins, who were throwing an absolute fit. They wore matching robes were purple this time, but one bore the image of a blue dwarf star, while the other one bore a red giant star. The boy in blue was lying on the ground, kicking, screaming, and pounding his fists on the floor, while the one in red was sitting on the floor crying and squirming.

            The elf seemed to be at a loss. “Sotty does not know what to do! Master Draco told Sotty to be putting the little masters down for their naps. They went down, but then got back up wanting juice. Sotty gave them juice, sir…” That this was the result was left unsaid.

            “Sotty, Draco is vomiting. Can you get an elf to tend to him?” I asked, while taking the three steps to reach the blue child.

            I picked the little boy up and held him the way I had when Teddy went through this stage. He continued to scream and his limbs flailed a bit, but he did seem startled enough to cease the worst of his fit. I soothed and comforted him, letting him rest his weary head on my shoulder. He was no different than any other over stimulated exhausted toddler lashing out at the prospect of having to walk back to his room.

            As soon as I had the first one under control, I bent my knees and held my free arm out to the red boy. He climbed into the crook of my arm and let me soothe him too. Meanwhile Sotty was back from the kitchen and an older elf was off in Draco’s direction with a cup of soup and crackers. I hoped it’d help, but I doubted it would.

            “Sotty, lead me to the nursery,” I requested.

            “Right away, sir,” Sotty replied, holding the door open for me.

            The twins were both asleep by the time we finished the journey and reached their room. I laid them down side by side on the toddler bed with the red rocket on the comforter. I could’ve matched the colors on their outfits to the beds, but I didn’t think that was necessary; they could sleep together for now.

            I left Sotty with the twins, instructing her to signal me if there was any more trouble and went in search of Draco. I found him sitting on the marble floor in the loo, sipping his soup from a spoon. The older female elf was standing next to him, wringing her hands and clearly waiting for further instructions.

            “Hey,” I greeted softly.

            “Hi,” he croaked.

            “Are you feeling any better?”

            “A little. Where have you been?”

            Oh shit! He’d ordered me to stay away from his sons and I’d just picked them up and put them to bed. I had to be careful with this or he might never let me in his house again. “Look Draco, I’m really sorry, but you clearly needed help. I only went to find an elf to help you, I swear to Merlin.”

            “Just as long as you didn’t go near my sons.” When I didn’t say anything, he added, “You didn’t go near their room, did you?”

            “They weren’t in their room. They were in the dining room throwing a fit. All I did was help Sotty move them to the nursery. They’re asleep now.”

            “They were asleep when I came up here.” He sounded angry.

            “Yes, but Sotty said they woke up and asked for juice.”

            “And she couldn’t just apparate in the juice, because of the ward, right. Urgh, just go away Potter and leave me and mine alone. This is all your Ministry’s fault.”

            “But Draco, you’re really sick and you clearly need help. I’m the only other adult human here. I can help you with the things elves can’t do. Let me help you to your bed.”

            “So you can fuck me again Potter? No thanks.”

            “I won’t do anything inappropriate, I swear. We don’t even have to go all of the way down to your room; we could go into one of the rooms up here, just as long as you lay down.”

            “No, I need to be near my boys. They’re only two and a half; they don’t understand when I’m not there.”

            “Well how do you propose to get there without me?”

            I had him there, it just took him a few minutes to accept it. Eventually he caved and let me help him up. He leaned on me as I slowly helped him down to his bedroom. After that he sent me away. I agreed to leave the room, but I wasn’t going to leave the house when he was so sick. Instead I went to the dining room and had a bowl of Bonnie’s soup and a large helping of roast lamb and carrots, which she prepared specially for me. It was pleasant being full. Afterwards I found Draco’s study and read one of his books about dragon spirituality.

            According to the book, there was a link between dragons and the first wizards. I wasn’t sure how much of it could be believed and I definitely didn’t buy into their explanation for the origin of wizards: a friendly muggle who made friends with a dragon, obtaining the dragon’s kiss. These religious yahoos didn’t even acknowledge that there was a difference between human magic and dragon magic, much less try to account for it; if one magic had its source from the other, then the magics would at least be similar, if not identical.

            The majority of the book was on communing with dragons. Only purebloods had hope of having the crucial allele needed to commune with the dragon spirits and only the most ancient of them at that. It was all a bunch of nonsense, so I switched to watching Draco’s monitoring charms of the island. I could always start planning my raid on the weapons cache.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now that Draco is ill, Harry has an excuse to stick around the cave. Maybe now he’ll discover a few more of Draco’s secrets. 
> 
> I’d like to thank Kiki and Artemis for reviewing the last chapter! You are awesome!
> 
> Please Review!


	7. Chapter7

            In the months that followed, I went on three more raids. I obtained plenty of food and weapons, but no broom or boat. I stayed inside Malfoy Cave and now had my own room on the upper floor. Draco was still sick and didn’t show any signs of improvement. If anything, he was getting sicker. The elves tried to treat the illness with food, but that worked about as well as any placebo. He self-medicated with anti-nausea potions, but that was a short term solution that didn’t fully rectify the problem even temporally. What he needed was proper medical treatment prescribed by a healer, but there were no healers on the island.

            With Draco sick, he needed help with his boys. He was reluctant to let me near them, but he had no choice in the matter and gracelessly conceded that I could help out. Broderick, the one always dressed in blue, and Roadrick, the one in red, were sweet little boys. At two and a half they were firmly lodged in the terrible twos and consequently threw their share of fits and tantrums, but I didn’t hold that against them. They were also active, inquisitive, and intelligent. They’d go on adventures with me exploring the caves during the day and beg the same three stories about dragons, over and over again, during the night.

            I thought that everything was working out as well as could be expected. The mysterious mind controlling affliction had not reoccurred, nor had the sex, and I’d studiously kept my distance. Draco was becoming used to my presence, no longer requiring such a large space to separate us. He never touched me or let me within his personal space, keeping the standard separating distance allotted to any stranger between us. We talked often, about the Hrypa terrorists, the dragons, how to build an escape boat, politics, the elves, and his sons.

            The most intimate discussion we’d shared was when I’d asked him about the woman who had given the boys to him. “Who is their mother, Draco?”

            “Her name is Leda Malfoy,” he answered simply.

            “Malfoy? I didn’t know you married.” I’d thought that since the conception wasn’t consensual that there was no chance of the victims marrying, despite the resulting twins. But maybe pureblood customs were so strict as to mandate marriage even in a situation like this one.

            He took a minute before answering. “We’re not. She was born a Malfoy; she’s my second cousin. Malfoys don’t typically marry our second cousins, but I admit this solved some problems. It explains why they look so much like me; they look like her too.”

            “What problems?” I asked curiously.

            “A Malfoy heir. The two of us were the last of the Malfoys. She was being pressured by her father to marry a pureblood, settle down, and have children. I felt the same pressure from the emptiness of the Manor, but I couldn’t stomach the idea of a wife. For Leda’s part, she was in love with a merman. She wanted to marry him and dreamed of half-breed children. She was finally going to have it.”

            “Did she leave the children and run off with the merman?”

            “She left the children, but she meant to come back. She wouldn’t abandon them.” His voice was sad.

            And then it clicked: it all connected. “The war got in her way. She couldn’t come back, with the anti-apparition ward in place.”  
            “She never left the island. Her boyfriend lived in one of the lakes south of here.”

            It hit me suddenly and I realized that it was so much worse than I’d thought. The terrorists attacked the merpeople, slaughtering the lot. If Leda Malfoy had been with the merpeople, there was a good chance she was dead. “Oh…” I said sadly, not knowing what to say.

            “I still have hope. Her mother’s family has a cave on the east side of the island; it’s much easier to get to from the lake. You must’ve evacuated her already. She’ll come back once this is all over.”

            “I keep records for the Ministry of everyone I evacuate or leave behind. There were no Malfoys.”

            He didn’t reply to that. He looked strained, but didn’t cry. Judging by his subdued reaction, he must’ve known this was coming. Either that or he wasn’t as prone to theatrics as I’d thought.

            That conversation was weeks ago now and I thought we were getting along, even becoming friends. But then today I was taken by surprise when he said, “You should leave, Potter. There won’t be any storms this week. You can make your way to the east side of the island and find a boat to take you to shore. The eastern people fish, so you will most definitely be able to find a boat, maybe even a broom.”

            “I’m not going to leave you like this. You’re still sick and you’ve got two young children,” I replied. He’d just come from the loo, where I knew he’d been sick again. The boys had been fine playing with their toys this time, but next time he might need me. I wanted to leave once the snow melts in the spring, to get a portkey and broom and return for the family. On the other hand, I also didn’t want to go until he was better. But, if he didn’t get better, I would have to go to bring him help. Maybe it was better I go sooner…

            “I’m getting better, I can feel it. I’ve had this before, you know, and this was how I felt when I started getting better last time. This month, I promise you, will be the month when it stops. Any day now will be the last of it.”

            I wanted that to be true, but I didn’t believe him. “You’re just trying to get rid of me. You’ve been sick twice already today.”

            He let out a huff and said, “Just you wait and see: I’m on the mend. If there’s a significant improvement by next week, then will you leave?”

            “If there’s a significant improvement, yes, but I’ll need time to prepare,” I conceded. I would have to start working on my plan to escape from the island. I didn’t want to take a boat, because I was pants at sailing, so I’d aim for a cave whose residence had had brooms before I’d evacuated them. I hoped I could get inside and find a broom.

            He was satisfied by my answer. I thought there was a chance he was going to try to hide his illness and I resolved to watch him closely over the coming weeks; he might lie about how much he vomited or keep it at bay with a particularly strong batch of anti-nausea potion. But I saw no evidence of that, only a slight decrease in his trips to the loo with his hands covering his mouth and an absence of potion vials. It was gradual, but after two weeks he was down to an average of one incident in the mornings. He’d be queasy at times during the day, but he was able to stave it off.

            By the third week, there was hardly any vomiting at all and I had to concede that he was on the mend. My plan for my departure was about as good as it could be, given the limited information I had on the state of the island outside this valley. One side trip, to obtain the memory crystal from the merpeople, was a necessity, to find out what happened to them. I would try to hit the occupied caves along the way, to obtain shelter. I also wanted to see if any of the cave yahoos had changed their minds about evacuating the island or if they had information on the movement of terrorists in their area. If I was going back to work, I might as well return with as much intelligence as possible.

            During my last meeting with Draco, I made him promise to keep him and the boys safe inside the cave, no matter what happened to me. He had his surveillance charms to keep him informed of what was going on around him and he promised that even if my life was in danger, he wouldn’t leave the safety of the cave as long as his charms indicated the presence of terrorists on the island. I had the impression that that wasn’t a hard promise for him to make.

            Draco also promised to keep me posted on terrorist movements and how he and the boys were doing with the Protean charmed parchment I gave him. I didn’t have an extra, but I learned how to make them long ago during Auror training, so it was easy to make a new pair of charmed parchments for us. If it wasn’t for those parchments, I didn’t think I would feel comfortable leaving him there like that. He was, after all, alone with a pair of young toddlers and recovering from illness and I worried about what could happen to him. What if the illness came back? What if the boys got sick? Or worse, what if the terrorists went after them and somehow breached his security defenses. But I had to go now to return with a portkey to rescue them, so I went.

            It was an unusually clear day when I set out. Snow still blanketed the slopes of the mountains, but it was melting and spring was coming at last. The first thing I did was look for my invisibility cloak, but I couldn’t see it amongst all of the snow. I tried summoning it to me, but it didn’t come and I saw no sign of movement, just as there had been no movement the previous times I’d left the cave and looked for it. I hoped it wasn’t damaged, but was forced to go on without it.

            I worried that my first stop, the lake, would be hard to locate with the lake frozen over, but that wasn’t the case. The lake had thawed along one shore, the blue-green water standing out in a sea of white and green pine. The exact location of the memory crystal was harder to locate, covered in three feet of snow. I tried to locate it using the trees as markers, but there were half a dozen trees that in their snow-covered states, could’ve been the tree I was looking for. Thus I had to dig down through three feet of snow to the base of four trees before I found the right one.

            The memory crystal was stored inside a magical box carved into the base of the tree, marked only by the groove from the joint of the lid and a heart carved into the bark. The heart was the symbol for the southern mertown. This was one of the larger lakes on the island and had once contained a thriving little town under the water. Their records, although recorded in mermish, would surely hold clues as to what exactly had transpired here during the early days of the terrorist occupation and hopefully the massacre that followed. Even if the information in this crystal saved no lives, it would be important evidence in a trial.

            I was starting to think I was never going to get the sacred heart box open. I’d only been trying for an hour, but I was freezing cold, wet from melting snow, and had a long way to go today. I needed this memory crystal, but not at all cost. I could always come back for it later, when it was warmer and not nearly so miserable. It was possible that I was skipping some crucial step that Draco had forgotten to mention or that I couldn’t remember; otherwise I was just pronouncing it wrong.

            Draco said it would be simple to access the memory crystal. All I had to do was speak the mermish words for, “Open Heart.” I also had to imbibe the words with my pure emotions showing no hatred or ill-will towards the merpeople. I definitely felt no desire to harm the merpeople, but I resented them for making this task so hard and that may have hindered my progress. I also wasn’t sure I had the pronunciation right, so I kept trying different ways of saying it. My mermish was questionable at best and downright atrocious, bordering on nonexistent most of the time, so it wouldn’t surprise me at all if that was the problem. If only I’d studied the odd screeching language like the late Professor Dumbledore had this might have been so much easier.

            I thought back to the harsh rasping sounds I remembered from the Triwizard Tournament and my various other encounters with the language and tried to reproduce the hideous noise. And then, when I was about ready to give up, the rectangular piece of bark popped up, revealing a hollowed out chamber underneath and a two inch long clear hexagonal crystal on a leather string. I snatched up the crystal and slung it around my neck, tucking it securely into my clothes. Then I replaced the lid and was off again.

            I stopped at various caves along the way, locating the few occupants who had chosen to stay, refusing my earlier portkey. Most of them were glad to see me, eager for a bit of human contact now that their friends and family had gone. Not that they wanted to leave their home, because most of them were just as insistent on staying as ever. Although, Old Man MacDhiarmaid did ask that I bring him back a portkey, because his rations were low and he was finally ready to abandon his home.

            The locals relayed to me their observations of the local terrorist movements, which I recorded gladly. Most of the information corroborated what I’d already learned from Draco’s surveillance charms, but some of it was new. I didn’t know how useful most of it would be, but I was certain that their reports on movements to the southeast would prove invaluable. Exiting the island from the southeast would provide the shortest oversea distance to the mainland and it was the route I meant to take, because it was the route I took in. But that was also one of the routes the terrorists occasionally used to bring in supplies and were watching for potential attack from the Ministry.

            The passage was not without risks, which was why I bunkered down in one of the caves of the MacFusty clan near the entrance to the critical valley that lead to my escape point. The MacFustys were gone, but one of their cousins, Sean MacEalair, was still there. Sean was the most closely related able bodied wizard left after the terrorists wiped out almost all of the ancient family, so he had elected to stay, to protect the dragons. He wasn’t making much of a difference at the moment, but he had taken it upon himself to record every detail of terrorist activity in his region.

            I hadn’t made him a Protean charmed parchment before, but I made him one now and showed him how to use it. The last time I’d been to see him my goal was to evacuate everyone. My latest orders, however, were to hand out charmed parchments to everyone who refused to leave, so that my fellow Aurors could gather as much intelligence on the terrorists as possible. Getting them out to the people would be a chore, but at least I was only under orders to get them to those I happen to come across, so I won’t have to go traipsing across the island just for that.

            In my absence, Sean will be able to use the parchment to communicate directly with the Ministry. I’d hand over my copy of the charmed parchment to my superiors at the Ministry as soon as I return. Another Auror would then be directed to keep in touch with MacEalair, along with all of the other wizards I manage to leave similar parchments with on the island. Procedure dictated that I was to do the same with the parchment linked to Draco, but I didn’t want to. I wanted to keep in touch with Draco myself, so I was keeping his.

            I started by learning all I could of the terrorists’ movements in the area and Sean was the perfect wizard to ask. As the self-appointed protector of the island, he’d went on dozens of his own raids, confiscating supplies from terrorists and imprisoning anyone he could subdue. He’d captured three terrorists so far. Two had escaped before he could hand them over to the Ministry, but one had successfully been picked up by Aurors and was reported to be safely ensconced within Azkaban. One down, untold numbers to go.

            There didn’t seem to be a pattern in the terrorists’ movements, or at least there wasn’t one the untrained MacEalair had noticed. I would have to watch for weeks to discern the best time to go. On the plus side, he’d confiscated enough food from the terrorists to last us for months and even had a stash of brooms taken off of the three terrorists he’d captured. They weren’t top of the line brooms, but they were functional and my best hope for flying across the icy channel separating the Hebrides Islands from Scotland.

            It took me weeks of surveillance work, but eventually I found a pattern. Unlike Malfoy Valley, this valley wasn’t left unmanned during their weekly Friday meetings. A pair of wizards were always left behind on guard. I was able to discern the pattern: there were only a total of four different wizards left behind in pairs, with one pair one week and the other pair the following week, before repeating. So by the time the fourth Friday rolled around, I was absolutely certain the weaker pair would remain.

            I used explosives Sean had confiscated from the terrorists, setting off an avalanche of snow at the exact moment the pair was flying under it, patrolling the valley. I was ready to go with my broom, racing out the narrow valley towards the open sea. But one of the pair, the big burly one with one eyebrow, somehow resurfaced from the avalanche and gave chase. The only thing I had to work with was the snow precariously balanced on top of the ridges bordering the valley.

            Being spring, the snow was melting, destabilizing the extensive mounds of frozen water that formed during the winter. Just at the exit of the valley there was a scooped out structure to the snow, where the compact ice had been pushed to extend out over the supporting rock, held in place by its solid attachment to the larger portion of ice still resting on the rock. The lower portion had melted, loosing contact and falling away to the valley floor below. The upper portion was melting and in danger of falling. I merely helped it along.

            I cast bombarda maxima at the ice, making it fall behind me, blocking off the terrorist pursuing me. It did what I planned and more, a thunderous crack ripping through the valley and signaling that I’d set off more of a reaction than I’d planned. Between the spell, the earlier explosion at the other end of the valley, and the melting of the snow, the winter ice was on the move, rolling down the side of the cliff, into the valley below, creating a solid wall of ice, snow, and mud between me and Sean’s cave.

            I saw no sign of either terrorist as I reached the shore. There was a port there used by the terrorists, along with a supply cave. I took the opportunity to raid the cave, stuffing all of the food and weapons into my knapsack. It only all fit because of the exceedingly generous undetectable extension charm on the bag. The one thing I couldn’t fit into my bag was the boat tied up at the docks. I wanted to take it, because I was certain the terrorists were using it, but it didn’t fit through the opening of my bag. Instead I destroyed it, scattering the pieces into the sea in hopes of wrecking it beyond repair.

            I thought about damaging the dock itself, but the Ministry too needed it to transport supplies in if they were ever going to take back the island, so I left it. I did, however, ensconce it within several wards only Ministry officials should be able to break. Obviously the terrorists had gained control of it before and without wizards defending it, they would likely crack the wards open and control it again. In all likelihood there were terrorists who’d formerly worked for the Ministry and knew all of our wards and the counter spells to unlock them. But the wards were better than nothing, all I had to work with, and I had more important things to do, like get off of this island.

            I kicked off of the ground, taking to the air above the turbulent sea, hoping to make a safe crossing. I’d made the crossing many times before, but never on such an old broom, with such a turbulent sea underneath, or with such gusting winds to navigate through. It was a calm day in early spring, but the best day in early spring was still worse than the relative calm of the fall sea. With all of the snow melt stirring things up, it’d be weeks, if not months, before the crossing calmed down. But I needed to make the crossing now and didn’t have months to spare, so I risked it, flying at top speed into the surging wind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so Harry has left Draco…There is no telling how long it will take him to return or what dangers he’ll have to face to do so, because getting off the island was only a part of the battle. There is still the adventure-filled return to go.
> 
> I’d like to thank Artemis, Kiki, and Littlewebby for reviewing the last chapter! Your feedback helped me decide where to go with this chapter :) Please Review!


	8. Chapter8

            The trip off of the island was hard and the long flight over the open sea seemed like it was never going to end, but eventually it did and I made it back. I reached the end of the anti-apparition ward when the Scottish shore was insight. Without bothering to reach that shore, I turned on the spot in midair, broom in hand, and apparated back to Auror headquarters. I was allowed a short rest to recuperate and a nice lunch and then I was thrust into the hot seat, explaining just what had happened.

            My bosses were very pleased with my work, especially that I’d managed to obtain the merpeople’s memory crystal. They took the crystal from me immediately and sent it to a mer-expert to analyze. Then there was all of the information I’d obtained on the terrorists movements on my way out, including the parchment charmed to communicate with Sean. It would all be gone over and analyzed to death.

            The Ministry was interested in using me as a source of knowledge to defeat the terrorists. They wanted to send me back in with a small scouting party to regain a footing by the docks. From there they’d organize their take-back of the island. They offered me portkeys to take with me, to offer to the locals still trapped in their caves, but since every one of the trapped witches and wizards had refused the first portkey offered them, the Ministry didn’t feel that the innocent civilians were their top concern.

            I, on the other hand, felt that Draco Malfoy and the two Malfoy children were my top concern. I had my regular communication with Draco assuring me that they were safe and healthy, along with the details of the terrorist activity he’d observed with his surveillance charms. I didn’t have a specific reason to get back, besides his abating illness, but still I had the uncontrollable feeling that I had to return and was needed in that cave. He was not the type of person to ask for help and I kept thinking that there was more going on than he was telling me.

            Unfortunately, both the plan for taking over the island and the plan for returning to the Malfoys had to wait. It was still early spring and the storms returned with a fierce vengeance upon the island. The avalanche of snow that I’d set off upon my departure had blocked the main access valley. I’d assumed it would be quickly cleared away by the terrorists, aided by the melting from the sun. But with a return of the winter storms, Sean MacEalair reported that the snow and ice had refrozen, blocking the valley.

            The terrorists, of course, hadn’t abandoned the shore, but had used one of the much further and more inconvenient valleys to access the southwestern shore. The wards I’d placed on the dock had been removed and the area was once again under enemy control. Thus Sean, trapped in his cave at the other end of the valley, was demobilized, but the terrorists weren’t. We would either have to take an alternative route into the island or wait for the ice blockade to melt.

            The weather was just starting to warm up and the ice finally resuming its melting, when the mer-expert returned their report on the mer-memory crystal I’d located. It was good news, because the entire town wasn’t annihilated as we’d feared. Instead the survivors had retreated to the underground system of caves where they had an emergency stronghold. It was part of the same system that let out into the bottommost level of the Malfoy Cave, but miles away and not likely traversable. All of their great fighters had either died defending the village or been severely injured in the process, so it was mostly the old, injured, and female merpeople left.

            The discovery meant that the surviving merpeople were in need of rescuing. They’d already been confined to a small underwater cave with limited food supplies for over six months and they couldn’t be expected to hold out much longer. Many of the refugees had been in need of medical aid and with the amount of time that had already passed, the only thing we could do about that was hope they had recovered. It was unlikely that any of the critically injured merpeople had survived this long, although that depended on just how bad the injuries were, what sort of medical equipment had been stored in the shelter, and whether or not any mer-healers had survived and gone with them.

            The survival of these merpeople meant that the Ministry’s plans for taking back the island had to wait until after the upcoming rescue attempt. And if some of their numbers had survived, the same was likely true of the other mertowns on the island, each of which would require its own rescue mission. Thus the take back of the island was put on hold indefinitely until the situation with the merpeople could be dealt with.

            I wanted back on the island as soon as possible and to that aim, I decided to volunteer my services to be part of the rescue team sent to evacuate merpeople. I let my intentions to break apart from the group to deliver portkeys to civilians and to rejoin the Malfoy family be known from the start. Luckily there were two other Aurors being sent in the rescue party, so they would be able to continue on without me. There was every possibility that these merfolk would give us directions to the strongholds of the other mertowns that existed on the island and that further rescue missions would be necessary.

            Given that we were dealing with merpeople and an underwater rescue, there was special equipment that was necessary. Each Auror going was proficient with the Bubblehead charm, which was our primary means of diving under water. But if that failed, we had Gillyweed in our knapsacks for emergencies. Then there were the portkeys, which were special underwater portkeys, programmed to transport the merfolk to a special underwater mer-shelter. From there the mer-experts would be sent in to question them.

            I was well suited to the team of three Aurors who were sent back onto the island. We flew in and used my expertise to navigate and to evade the terrorists. Going with me was Caireall MacIlleThòmhais, who was from Scotland, and Ford Mathieson, a mer-expert. On a rescue of merpeople, a mer-expert was a necessity. Given that I was not to be continuing on with them for any additional rescue missions, a native who was willing to be brought up to speed on the situation was also a must. Caireall had visited the island many times, so I hoped it would be easy for him to pick up the details regarding the terrorists, the remaining civilians, and the lakes that were once inhabited by merpeople.

            Flying across the turbulent channel of harsh sea was hard, but what was worse was that before we even got within landing range of the island, the terrorists were onto us. There was one very large male dragon on patrol and he smelt us. We’d assumed we’d be safe, at least initially, because Ford and I had invisibility cloaks on, while Caireall’s Disillusionment charm was so strong that he appeared invisible. My invisibility cloak was still lost inside Malfoy Valley, but I’d long ago bought a spare, which was mostly so I had one to lend to Ron, who couldn’t afford to buy himself one and wouldn’t accept the gift.

            If it was just human lookouts, they wouldn’t have noticed us flying right under their noses, but a dragon has a much stronger sense of smell. The chase began and we were off and flying, turning southwest along the shore instead of northwest through the valley. He chased us on dragon back, blaring hot flames shooting at us from its mouth, dragon roars reverberating through the air and making our little brooms vibrate. I turned my head sideways to see an intense large purple eye staring back at where it knew me to be, despite not being able to see me.

            I had, of course, switched out the old broom I acquired for my exodus from the island for a new top of the line model. But when there is a dragon at your back, having a new broom between ones legs is less than reassuring. The fact that my companions were invisible to me, but detectable to the dragon was also not reassuring. At least my tracking charm I’d cast on them was still holding, which meant I could feel a pull indicating their location. I could only surmise from the way they were flying with me that the ones they’d cast on me were still holding and that they could tell where I was as well.

            Of course Ford and Caireall were expert flyers, keeping up with me as I evaded the dragon’s fire by shooting up into the air, diving back down, and looping around the dragon. The dragon summersaulted in midair to face us, in order for his flame to have a chance at catching us. Luckily dragons are not the most intelligent of creatures and in the process, this one exposed his belly. The three of us Aurors cast our stunning spells in quick succession, training taking the place of planning, before the dragon could right himself.

            Three stunners are not enough to take down a fully grown dragon, but it is enough to momentarily distract one. While the dragon shook his massive black head and hesitated, we cast another three stunners, hitting him square in the belly. Six stunners were enough to confuse the dragon, who retreated to lick his wounds, taking the terrorist on his back with him. There was no time to waste, because more terrorists would follow and soon replace their fallen comrade, so we took off towards the caves to find shelter. We didn’t know whether or not they had a second dragon nearby and we had to assume the worst.

            The valley that was the most direct way in was still partially blocked by a layer of ice. We could’ve flown through easily enough, but there were too many terrorists in the vicinity. According to Draco and the other civilian intelligence, they had changed their pattern and were no longer meeting on Fridays, but on Tuesdays. Well it was Tuesday, but the valley had more than two guards keeping a lookout. Besides the terrorist mounted on the now defeated dragon, we’d seen another half a dozen on brooms. Either the terrorist organization had grown so that it could now spare more guards, the intelligence information was wrong and they weren’t meeting today, or they were now more wary of Ministry attack from that direction.

            Whatever the case, we couldn’t go back through the valley. Instead we hugged the cliffs bordering the steep shoreline of the island, until we came across a cave where I remembered a pair of young civilian males, Eònan and Eòran, had lived. This pair had belonged to a larger family and while everyone else in the family had evacuated, the duo had chosen to stay to keep an eye out and protect their cave. When I turned up with the two other Aurors, appearing out of nowhere as invisibility cloaks and disillusionment charms were removed, the brothers agreed to let us take shelter.

            Eònan and Eòran caught us up on the latest of the terrorists’ movements, reporting that they had indeed seen the terrorists migrating upwards into the island for their weekly meeting today. They never went close to the port and their own surveillance charms didn’t reach that far, but they speculated that six guards and a dragon was now the minimum number of terrorists left to guard the most important port on the island. They also agreed to take one of our protean charmed parchments and to communicate any additional information gathered straight to the Ministry; a satchel of already charmed parchments was just one of the items the Ministry had sent me out with this time around, so I didn’t even have to take the time to make one.

            That was good news, because it meant that it was still a good time to move. The terrorists would be after us, but only the rest of the half dozen. It would take hours for the others to come down from their meeting or for one of the guards on duty to fetch them. In the meantime, our group of three only had to dodge a few terrorists and take the long way around, which was exactly what we did. Of course it was much easier with us being freshly invisible and them now without a dragon.

            We got all of the way to the next valley, the southernmost inlet into the interior of the island, before the terrorists were able to pick up our trail again. This time there was no dragon, but a secrecy detection charm. It detected our presence and sent the alarms blaring. The pair of guards on patrol immediately went on high alert, trying to pick us out, but that was a difficult task and they only had the two of them and no dragon. Evidentially, the terrorists really were at their meeting today and word had not yet spread to this valley.

            One of the terrorists cast a spell that countered disillusionment charms, making Caireall suddenly visible. Ford and I were fine in our cloaks, but we couldn’t abandon Caireall, who the pair of terrorists was now chasing. Instead we let Caireall go ahead without us and hung back, stunning the terrorists as soon as they pulled ahead of us. Then we were tasked with what to do with our captives. The Ministry couldn’t let us take the type of portkey which could be activated at any time upon touch, because those were dangerous if they got into enemy hands. The anti-apparition ward was still firmly in place, there was no floo access, and we didn’t want to murder our prisoners. The only choice we had left to us was to continue on until we reach another inhabited cave and deposit our prisoners. We would then have to beg the owner of the cave to watch the prisoners until it was time to take one of the portkeys back to the Ministry, where the terrorists could be safely dropped off.

            Thus the three of us bound the terrorists tightly with incarcerous spells, strapped them onto the back of our brooms, and took off with our burdens through the valley. The first inhabited cave contained an older witch and her teenaged son, so it was no surprise when she refused to help us. It was slightly surprising that the pair still refused to leave the island, but then they had refused the first time as well. The only thing they didn’t refuse taking was the charmed parchment for communication purposes. We continued on and faced a similar situation at the next cave, which contained an elderly couple, who also wouldn’t help or leave.

            Finally, at the third inhabited cave, we found a middle aged wizard named Ualas who’d stayed behind with his crups. He agreed to help, showing us where we could safely leave our prisoners. It was a barren stone room with a heavy solid rock door, moveable only with magic, so it was unlikely that they would be able to escape without their wands, even if they did manage to break through the incarcerous. And to top it off, Ualas had muggle ropes, which he used to bind the captives. We were reasonably certain that he’d be safe for the two days it’d take for the portkey to activate and that he’d get the terrorists securely into Ministry hands.

            We couldn’t stay long and securing the prisoners had already taken up so much of our time, but we felt we had to stay long enough to inform Ualas of what was going on. Plus we wanted whatever information Ualas had for us. He added that from what he could tell, the western route to the merpeople’s lake was the less heavily traveled by the terrorists. The terrorists tended to keep to the eastern side of the island and the western route was particularly hard to travel through the inhospitable terrain.

            We thanked Ualas for all of his help and set off to the west, stopping at a cave where an entire family, the Sgèins, had refused to leave. We’d been informed prior to our departure that this family was out of food and requesting that we come back with a portkey to rescue them, having used one of the local sea birds to deliver the message to the Ministry. Apparently they thought the standoff would be long over by now and weren’t prepared to hold out any longer. My bosses had said we were to rescue them if we could, but not to jeopardize the merfolk to get them. Since Ualas’ information led us in the Sgèins’ direction, we stopped for them, handing over the portkey.

            By this time it was already dark. We didn’t want to travel under the cover of darkness, because it was a cloudy night, with no moon or stars to light our way. We daren’t use our wands, for fear of calling attention to ourselves and we didn’t know the rugged terrain well enough to attempt it blind. Therefore we stayed the night with the Sgèin family, sleeping on conjured cots in their sitting room.

            We left first thing in the morning, once more donning our invisibility cloaks, casting our disillusionment charms, and taking off on our brooms. We made one more stop, this time at the cave of a pair of lonely old widows who really ought to have accepted the first portkey and been evacuated long ago. Most of the civilians had been in contact with their neighbors, but no one so far had seen or heard from these two. I hoped that it was only because they were too old to see properly and didn’t want to risk leaving their cave, but I feared the worst.

            The worst proved to be just the case with the widowed sisters. One was found in her bed, dead of apparent natural causes, but it was hard to tell. Was it a heart attack or Avada Kedavra? A healer and an autopsy would be needed to make the determination. The other sister was obviously killed from the dragon burns she’d suffered. I could just imagine that having lost her sister, the little old lady went out to give the terrorists a piece of her mind. She had her pointer finger up as if she were waggling it while telling a younger person off.

            We didn’t have time to transport the corpses to the Ministry, but we did record what evidence we could find and secure the bodies. It took most of the day, given that it was a murder investigation. This lady was a dragon yahoo, so there wasn’t a warlock alive who’d believe a dragon would harm her just outside her own cave. Even if there wasn’t a human riding the dragon who’d killed her and it was simply one of the more dangerous dragons letting off some steam, the death wouldn’t have happened if the terrorists hadn’t let the dangerous dragons loose. This type of situation was one of the reason those dragons were chained up in the first place.

            The murder was a disappointing setback and there was little evidence left, because nothing out of the ordinary could be found inside and the elements had destroyed most of the evidence outside the cave. But on the bright side, that meant we were once again off to find the remaining merpeople not long before supper time. We weren’t far and the path was crossed easily on broom, so we found ourselves at the western shore of the desired lake just as the sun set. We took a break for a bite to eat, before our real task began.

            The water was dark and cold, but we had bubble charms around our heads, heating charms on our bodies, and our wands lighting our way. Our brooms and invisibility cloaks were stowed away in our waterproof knapsacks, unneeded for the rest of today’s journey. The knapsacks increased the drag on our bodies from the water and slowed us down, but we couldn’t jettison them, because they had all of our supplies, including the much needed portkeys.

            It was a long miserable journey, our heating charms wearing off long before we found the correct path. Luckily I had become proficient with nonverbal spells ages ago, so I was able to recast the spell even under water. Still, I couldn’t maintain a lumos while casting a heating charm, so I had to rely on the light from Ford and Caireall while I did it. I did the same for them when they needed it, but it meant that we had to stop frequently.

            The worst part about the journey was that we kept getting lost. None of us had ever entered this lake before and we were completely unfamiliar with the underground water system. We were supposed to be finding the channel that led to the stronghold the merpeople had retreated to, but we kept finding other channels that led back the way we came, nowhere, or in the wrong direction entirely. Luckily our Point-Me spells quickly indicated when we were going the wrong way, so we didn’t waste too much time before going back and finding another channel.

            Eventually we did find the correct path and we knew this one was right, because of the heart that was engraved on the stone walls. This group of merpeople took the heart to symbolize their town, their town name translating to HeartTown in Mermish. We didn’t know we should be looking for it, but once we found the symbol, we knew this was the right way. It was a good thing it was there, because the channel initially led too far down, making us think it couldn’t be the right one. But then it went back up, creating a U-shaped bend and heading in exactly the right direction.

            The most upsetting part of the journey was the fact that there were dead half-eaten merbodies littered along the floor of this tunnel. The bodies started out as nothing more than scraps that could’ve been from anything, but as we got further in, the bodies became more and more intact, until we could recognize them for what they really were: sentient beings. The number and frequency of the bodies increased until we reached a solid wall of bodies.

            Luckily we were prepared for this, Ford the mer-expert having brought a body bag with an undetectable extension charm on it. It was common practice in times of danger for merpeople to hide themselves away in an underwater stronghold and use the bodies of their dead to create a protecting wall. Thus Ford had known to bring the body bag and we simple had to scoop a body into the bag and move on to the next one.

            It was hard, disgusting, gruesome work, but we eventually cleared the blockage. The tunnel let out into a large underground cavern, full of merfolk. There was nowhere near as many merpeople as had lived in the lake, but it was a relief to know that so many beings were still alive when once presumed dead.

            Ford announced us in Mermish as Aurors from the Ministry, come to rescue them. There was fear and confusion at first, but then a pair of officials came forward to converse with Ford in Mermish. Not speaking Mermish ourselves, Caireall and I had to wait and leave this step up to Ford. Luckily Ford was considerate and asked the merpeople to lead Caireall and me to a place to rest, if they had one. Worst case scenario we’d have to rest underwater on the stone floor, but luckily there was a small pocket of air in the cavern with a smooth stone surface for us to lie on.

            “Thank you kind Aurors for coming to the rescue of my people,” the merman escort said. He was a very old merman, his piscine face heavily lined with wrinkles. He had patchy discolored scales and grey hair surrounding his large bald spot.

            “You speak English?” I asked surprised.

            “Yes Harry Potter, I do. I am the only survivor who does, which is why I was asked to escort you and your partner to the shore.”

            “What’s your name?” Caireall asked.

            The old merman gave an answer that was harsh and screeching. We didn’t mean to be rude, but we couldn’t help raise our hands to our ears.

            “You may call me Grandfather; everyone else does,” the merman added.

            “Grandfather, you’re welcome, about rescuing your people I mean,” I said and the merman nodded, while my partner began to dig around in his knapsack for dry clothes and something to eat. We had been up all night and were exhausted, but it was nearly breakfast time and we were hungry again. “Can I ask you about a human? One was supposed to be down by your lake when the Hrypa terrorists attacked your people,” I said.

            “I have seen many humans die, which one in particular are you referring to?” Grandfather asked.

            “Leda Malfoy. She was dating a merman.”

            “There were no humans dating mermen and there never have been. Our species are not compatible. Nor have I heard of this Leda Malfoy.”

            “Are you sure?” I asked. Maybe Draco was mistaken or maybe Leda had lied to him.

            “I am sure. The only Malfoys on the island are male; one adult and two children with the kiss of the dragon. There has not been a female Malfoy on the island in over a hundred years.”

            “Thank you for your help,” I replied.

            “You are very much welcome Harry Potter. I will leave you now, but if you need anything, all you have to do is call for me,” he said, before slipping back into the water.

            Caireall and I dried off, ate, and conjured cots to sleep on before Ford returned with news. It seemed that the mer-officials were reasonably certain that the other mer-villages on the island would’ve secluded themselves into their own underwater strongholds. They informed Ford of the locations of both the strongholds and the memory crystals and Ford relayed the information to us, before transferring it to the Ministry via his Protean charmed parchment. Ford and Caireall would wait here for a day for the underwater portkeys to activate, travel back to the mainland with the merpeople, and then set off to find the others. I, on the other hand, would get my fill of sleep before setting off for the Malfoy cave.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Up next Harry will finally make it back to Malfoy Cave and confront Draco regarding what he hasn’t learned of Leda…
> 
> I would like to thank Artemis, the only person who reviewed the last chapter! Your feedback is awesome!  
> Please Review!


	9. Chapter9

            The trip to the Malfoy cave was even more eventful this time, not only because I stopped at civilian inhabited caves along the way, but also because the terrorists were on heightened alert. There had been no sign of me and the other Aurors since we captured that pair of guards in the southern valley, but they thought we were up to something and increased their patrols. The human patrols were nothing to me with my invisibility cloak, but the dragons were a problem.

            I was growing very weary of being chased by angry dragons and almost getting burnt to a crisp and that wasn’t the only issue. Every time I passed an inhabited cave, I stopped to offer a portkey and a protean charmed parchment. Some of the residents were now low enough on their food stores to accept the portkey, but many more refused, intent on holding their ground. There was one young hothead halfblood named Taran who started spouting off Hrypa propaganda. He had a cousin who was killed by Death Eaters during the war, which was unusual for a cave yahoo, because their lot tended to be confined to just the purebloods.

            I spent several hours trying to talk some sense into Taran, only to convince myself that he couldn’t be allowed to stay. He might go out and get himself killed by trying to join the dangerous terrorist organization. The terrorists had already proved to have no respect for the lives of cave yahoos and were known to disdain the dragon mysticism religion, which he practiced so devoutly he wouldn’t leave the island, even when war broke out. He thought they’d get on, but I thought it’d end badly. If not and he successfully joined our enemies offering them a vital resource in himself and his knowledge of the land, he’d make our defeat of the terrorists more difficult.

            The only solution was to see that Taran took a portkey back to the mainland. I had one in my bag that was set to go off in twenty-two hours, which was too long to wait around and just long enough to make a detour prior to. There was only one way into Malfoy Valley, so the further I went, arching back from my trip around the southern lake, the closer I got to the original path I’d taken off of the island all of those months ago. At the crossing, where the two paths met, I turned away from Malfoy Valley and continued towards the sea.

            It took me half a day, but I finally reached my destination. There was a starving old man named MacDhiarmaid there who’d asked me to bring him back a portkey. I did him one better, I brought him back a portkey set to go off later in the week and enough food to cover him until then. He had only avoided starving to death by raiding the empty caves of his evacuated neighbors and because Sean MacEalair had on several occasions brought him food stolen from the terrorists. The man thanked me profusely and begged me stay and chat for a while, but I had to go.

            I had to get back to Taran’s cave before my first portkey went off without him. I had no time to sleep and instead turned right back around the way I’d come. It took me longer to fly back, because I was tired, but I made it with half an hour to spare. Taran tried to argue with me when I told him what was going to happen, but I was exhausted by this time and having none of it. Instead I threatened to arrest him and then send him back if he didn’t go on his own and stay away from the island until the cessation of hostilities. Put in terms like that, he left.

            I stayed in Taran’s cave to sleep, being too exhausted to go anywhere else. I slept through the rest of the day and took the night to catch up on sending in my reports to the Aurors. They would need to know why I’d forced Taran to evacuate and that I’d gotten Old Man MacDhiarmaid food and a portkey. Plus they needed my reports on everyone else I’d passed and everything I’d seen. A message came through my parchment for me in return, letting me know that my two partners had successfully relocated all of the merfolk.

            Once my communication needs were handled, I focused on my hygiene, having not bathed since reaching the island. Draco was a stickler for hygiene and I desired to show up looking my best, because I wanted to impress him. Of course nothing further sexual had happened since that one night, but I still held hopes that he’d come around. We were perfect for each other and he’d eventually have to see it too; at least I hoped so. Thus a bath, a shave, and a change of clothes were in order.

            After I dressed, I ate breakfast and took off into the newly risen dawn for Malfoy Valley. I made two stops along the way, handing out one more portkey to a wizard my age named Camshron who was finally ready to leave. He asked for one that wouldn’t come for at least a week, because he had friends on the northern side of the island who wanted off. I agreed and offered him an extra portkey, in case he came across anyone else on the island who was ready to leave and several charmed parchments in case they wanted to stay. He jumped at the chance to help out and asked for information regarding who was left to check with. I wrote down everything I knew about the remaining inhabitants along the route he was planning on taking, which delayed me further. But if he could get people off of the island or in communication with the Ministry for me, then that would save me a lot of work.

            The second stop occurred when I discovered a dead body lying on the ground. It was hard to tell if it’d been a terrorist or a local because of the amount of decay the body and clothes had suffered, but either way I had to collect evidence and document the scene. There appeared to be dragon involvement, with the edges of the cloak singed, but the cause of death was likely a fall from a great height. Whoever this was, he’d either been on dragon back, riding a broomstick, or climbing the steep cliffs of the valley when he fell and died. Unfortunately for me that meant I had to take yet another day to investigate all the while looking for clues as to who this person was.

            I found a cave to shelter in and continued my work the next morning, securing the body and sending my notes off to the Ministry. Then I set out once more, evading yet another rampaging dragon. It was dusk again when I finally entered Malfoy Valley. I was about to go into the outer entrance to Malfoy Cave when I saw the familiar shimmer of my old invisibility cloak. Grateful that it hadn’t been stolen by the terrorists, I snatched the now filthy garment up and shoved it into my knapsack. It was wet and had likely been trapped under the snow all winter. I’d have to have it cleaned as soon as possible, perhaps by one of Draco’s house elves.

            Then I finally entered Malfoy Cave. The inner rock door was closed and I couldn’t even see the groove of where it was. Thus I knocked on the blank wall and yelled for Draco and his elves. I’d expected to be greeted with open arms, since I was bringing food and an escape method, but instead it was the old hologram projection Draco greeted me with.

            “Why did you come back Harry Potter? I told you we were fine and I thought I made it clear that we aren’t going to leave,” he said.

            “No, you can’t stay Draco! It’s not safe for your boys to stay and you need to see a healer,” I protested.

            “No I don’t; I’m fine; completely recovered. And the boys are safe in here.”

            “Well I’m not leaving without you, so can you let me in already?”

            “No, I don’t think so. You can stay there on the porch, but I’m going to activate the outer wards again, in case you draw attention to yourself.”

            I nodded and a stone slammed into place, sealing the outer entrance. “Why won’t you let me back in? I thought we were past this! I know all about your sons and I won’t hurt them.”

            “Because I don’t want to encourage you. You should leave when your portkey activates.”

            “I’m not going without you.” If it came to that, I’d take off to the west, tracking down the remaining civilians who I hadn’t seen in six months to see if they were willing to take one of my portkeys. Then I’d join the next mer-rescue, which was already in the planning stages. But, I didn’t want Draco to think he was getting rid of me that easily, so I didn’t mention that.

            “Well you are _not_ coming inside.” And with that, Draco’s hologram disappeared, leaving me alone.

            I had twenty-four hours to think about what had just happened before Draco’s image returned. I spent the time setting up my tent, writing the Ministry, and thinking about what was going on. The only thing I could come up with was that Draco was still hiding something. And I had one clue to just what that might be.

            “When are you leaving Potter?” Draco asked.

            “Never. When are you letting me in?”

            “Not until I have use for you. At the moment, I have no idea when that might be. I hope you have enough food to last you this time.”

            “I do. I have food for you too.”

            “I’ll send Lifton to retrieve it,” he conceded.

            “Great. I need to talk to you about something else, will you let me in to speak?”

            “No, I can hear you from here.”

            “In that case, I have information regarding Leda Malfoy. You might want to sit down for this,” I warned. I didn’t think my news was that shocking, but I had no idea how sick he was. He said he was fine, but I didn’t entirely believe him.

            “I am sitting. Did you find her?” His face was blank as he asked it, expressing neither worry, excitement, nor concern.

            “No and there is no record of her ever being with the southern merfolk. I spoke with a merman who calls himself Grandfather. He says that no one named Leda Malfoy has ever been involved with a merman. Furthermore, he says that it is impossible for a human to have a relationship with a merperson, because our species are incompatible. Finally, he says that no female Malfoy has been on this island in over a hundred years and that he’s never heard of a Leda Malfoy.”

            “Well he wouldn’t; Leda was seeing a merman in the western lake, not the southern one. That sort of relationship would be hushed up and kept from starch old merfolk who wouldn’t approve.”

            “You told me it was the lake to the south.”

            “No I didn’t; you misheard or misremembered.”

            “Then why did you send me to the southern lake to retrieve the memory crystal?”

            “Because I knew precisely where that crystal was and how to retrieve it. I don’t have that level of information on the other mertowns.”

            “Fine, but even if I was wrong about that, how do you explain that Grandfather didn’t know of _any_ female Malfoy being on the island?”

            “This old merman couldn’t possibly know every human that was on the island and we all look the same to them.”

            “I’m not buying it Malfoy. Did you know that my coworkers are working on organizing an expedition to find the memory crystals from the other mertowns and their secret underwater strongholds? Soon I’ll be able to ask the merpeople of the western lake. What will you say then?”

            “That depends on what they have to say.”

            “They will say the same as Grandfather; that they have never heard of a Leda Malfoy.”

            “I don’t believe that to be the case. I am sure Leda said it was a western merman she was in love with.”

            “And if not?”

            “Well then she lied, but I don’t believe she did. Ask every merman on the island if you must, but one of them must’ve heard of Leda.”

            “I don’t think they will. I don’t think there was a Leda.”

            “In that case, good day Potter,” Draco said before the holographic projection clicked off.

            He left me alone on the porch once more, but Lifton did come to visit me later that afternoon to retrieve the food I’d brought.

            “Lifton, what is Draco hiding now?”

            “Master Draco has ordered Lifton not to tell Harry Sodding Potter,” Lifton said, wringing his hands.

            “I know there was no Leda Malfoy. Who really is the mother of Broderick and Roadrick?”

            Lifton grunted and banged his head against the hard stone floor. “Lifton cannot say, sir.”

            “What should I do then? Can you tell me that?”

            “Lifton doesn’t see why not, sir. Harry Sodding Potter must stay and take care of Master Draco.”

            “Is he sick again then?”

            “No, not exactly,” the elf said with a grunt, pulling at his ears.

            “What then? Tell me Lifton.”

            “Does Harry Potter, sir, know what it means to be kissed by the dragon spirits?” Lifton asked in reply.

            “No, not exactly,” I admitted.

            “Find out, sir,” Lifton said. “Now Lifton must be ironing his ears for being a very bad elf.”

            And then Lifton was gone and I was left with the task of finding out what the phrase meant. I knew I’d heard it used before, possibly even in conjunction with the Malfoys, but I didn’t know when or how. If only I had Hermione with me. Not having my best friend at my side, I did the next best thing and sent her my request with my patronus. She’d get back to me using the Protean charmed parchment I’d left with Ron. In the meantime, I retrieved my portable pensieve from my knapsack and set to work examining my memories for the phrase as well as the exact wording Draco had used when telling me about Leda Malfoy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so the mystery continues… at least this time Harry has a solid lead to chase. Please Review!


	10. Chapter10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’d like to thank gyspywitch19, sghazalifard, Isabella, and billjenny6972 for reviewing the last chapter! Your feedback is the inspiration that keeps me writing :)

        I was rather put out by the fact that I’d spent the last two and a half months getting off of the island and then returning with a portkey with the intention of rescuing the Malfoy family, who no longer wished to be rescued. But if the Malfoys weren’t ready to be rescued and wouldn’t let me in, there wasn’t much use in my waiting around for them when there were so many other beings on the island in need of my help. I used the outer cave of Malfoy Cave as my base of operations, but I didn’t stay put waiting for Draco; instead I let him know I was going and that I’d be back soon.

        My first trip was to the northwest. Ford and Caireall were planning the rescue of another mervilliage and it would go easier if they had the corresponding memory crystal. I was the only one in a position to obtain it, hence my mission. I knew this crystal wouldn’t lead me to the nonexistent Leda Malfoy, but it would aid in our locating the missing merpeople. I knew, because I’d examined my memories in a pensieve and was able to determine that I’d been right and that Draco was lying. He’d clearly stated on three separate occasions that Leda had gone to the southern lake, not the western one. It was only when I’d returned with proof that she hadn’t gone south that he changed his tune and I was certain he’d change his tune again once I return with proof that she hadn’t gone west either. He was probably counting on one of the mertowns being so decimated that the survivors wouldn’t notice that a human hadn’t died.

        I started out east, because it was the only way to exit Malfoy Valley, but then curved around to the north, stopping along the way to check on the various civilians who’d chosen to stay. I found an abandoned cave where I’d expected to find a young couple. When I asked the nearest neighbors, the MacBhàtairs about the couple, they informed me that a wizard had come by with a portkey and they had taken it to the refugee camp. I had indeed sent a wizard named Camshron north this way with two portkeys and I was pleased to learn that he had found a taker for the spare, because it meant two more civilians had fled to safety.

        There were six MacBhàtairs, a middle aged couple, their three children between the ages of ten and seventeen, and Mr. MacBhàtair’s widowed mother.

        While I had a family with three willing adult informants in the MacBhàtairs, I decided to ask a few more questions. I asked first if they’d ever heard of a Leda Malfoy or any family on the island with connection to Draco Malfoy. The answer was no. Of the six members of the MacBhàtair family still on the island, none of them had ever heard of a Leda Malfoy or anyone on the island connected to Draco Malfoy and his two sons. There was no other Malfoy family. When I asked about human/merpeople romantic relations they laughed and said someone was pulling my chain.

        “So where then, do the Malfoy boys come from?” I asked.

        “From the kiss of the great dragon spirits,” Old Lady MacBhàtair answered.

        “Yes, but what does that mean exactly? Surely there must’ve been a mother.”

        “Certainly, but we do not know who,” she answered and the others nodded in agreement.

        I’d been in contact with Hermione, who promised to research the phrase, but had so far been able to determine nothing more than that a kiss from a dragon spirit was supposed to grant fertility. That was in agreement with what Draco had said about the first Malfoys to inhabit Malfoy Cave.

        I didn’t yet have any evidence supporting it, but I had a feeling that the dragon magic, or “dragon spirit,” as the cave yahoos called it, was somehow responsible for the trance that had led to my having had sex with Draco. It was probably part of the kiss that a sexual partner is found for those without one. As the nearest human, it latched onto me. But who had it latched onto with the twins? It must’ve been a witch and since Draco wouldn’t tell me which witch, it must’ve been someone he doesn’t want known. Given that his heirs were involved, that probably meant a mudblood or a half-breed.

        Next I asked, “Does the dragon spirit ever force conception?”

        “I wouldn’t say it forced Alfred and me, but it was with us during the conception of our children, yes,” old lady MacBhàtair answered and Mr. and Mrs. MacBhàtair agreed.

        “But if Draco Malfoy didn’t have a sexual partner and the dragon spirits were to kiss him, might he then go out in search of the nearest human to procreate with?”

        “Possibly, but none of use knows for certain,” Old Lady MacBhàtair answered.

        I asked for details regarding exactly what they knew of the Malfoy family and precisely how they’d learned of the children. Apparently Draco was considered a recluse, even among the reclusive cave yahoos, and the children had never been seen outside of their cave. They only knew of their existence because their names had appeared on a magical list of those who’d been kissed by the dragon. The list carved itself onto a stone peak above the sacred library in the middle of the island, where there was a high concentration of dragon magic and a large number of surrounding nests. Those who believed in the dragon spirit went four times a year to a gathering to read the list. No one had gone this year, because of the terrorists, but in the year the Malfoy twins were born, three names were added to the list.

        “Can you show me how the names appear? Make me as close of a copy as to what you can remember?” I asked.

        Mr. MacBhàtair, Old Lady MacBhàtair’s son, agreed. He pulled out a scrap of parchment and wrote:

        Draco Lucius Malfoy-

        

        

        - Broderick Castor Malfoy

        

        

        - Roadrick Pollux Malfoy

        “That’s unusual, innit Ma-ma?” Mr. MacBhàtair asked his mother.

        “Yes, it is. When you were born both your father’s and my names were added to the list before your name,” Old Lady MacBhàtair answered.

        “Yes, but you were married Ma-ma and there are other cases where only one parent is added. That young MacLuirg girl wasn’t married when she was kissed. Her name and her daughter’s name appeared, but not the father’s name. The poor dear never did tell us who done it do her,” Mrs. MacBhàtair said and the others agreed.

        It seemed as though only the parents taking responsibility for the children resulting from the kiss of a dragon spirit were recorded on the sacred list. Whoever Draco had impregnated had never told, never been seen pregnant, and had slipped away without being missed. It was a complete mystery and the people of the island had assumed that the mother was someone Draco Malfoy had secretly been hiding in his cave.

        None of the MacBhàtairs thought that my notion of the mother being of impure blood was likely, because there weren’t any half-breeds or muggleborns living on the island at the time. They thought it much more likely that Draco had been having an affair with a married pureblood witch or had arranged for a surrogate to bear his children. Whatever the case, the family provided me no more answers, so I moved on, leaving them behind with a protean charmed parchment.

        I turned west, following the pass around the mountains on my way to the westernmost lake. I came across another dead body, lying crumpled in the mud. I was beginning to grow very tired of finding dead bodies, especially because this was one I recognized. He was a middle-aged wizard who lived in the area, but obviously hadn’t stuck to his own cave. He was found near one of the terrorist supply caves and judging by the deep cuts covering his body, he was slashed to death by the terrorists. Perhaps he’d been caught and killed during a raid.

        Being an Auror, I had no choice but to stop to gather evidence and document the scene. This one was obviously a murder, making the job even more important. When the terrorists are finally brought to their knees, the murder of this man will be among the list of crimes they are made to pay for. Thus I spent two days sifting through the leaves and soil for trace evidence, before packing up the body and taking him with me to the lake. I found a deserted cave in the vicinity of the lake and that was where I left him, for Ford and Caireall to retrieve when they come for the merfolk.

        It was summer, so the cold and snow were no longer a problem. The mud from the summer rains and the sudden storms, though, didn’t make my task pleasant. This time I found the right tree immediately and went straight to trying to speak the password to open the secret hiding place at the base of the tree. Again I found myself hindered by my ineptitude with the Mermish language. Unlike the last time, I’d never heard the words spoken out loud, having read them from my Protean charmed parchment, which meant I had absolutely no idea how to say them.

        After many failed attempts, I broke down and sent my patronus out to Ford, asking him for help. It took hours, because the patroni had to travel great distances there and back, but eventually his patronus returned and spoke the password to me. I then repeated it to the tree, my good intentions foremost in my mind, and the lid popped up instantly. I retrieved the memory crystal and slung it around my neck for safe keeping, just as I’d done with the last one.

        Now that I had the crystal, the challenge was getting it off of the island and back to Ford and for that I’d need help. I had used my charmed parchment to locate someone on the island who would be willing to transport the crystal for me via portkey. The Auror who was in charge of all of the charmed parchments having to do with the reserve contacted the various remaining civilians. The civilians with parchments now covered a large segment of the island and were able to contact the other residents of the island via the local sea birds. Thus it was determined not only who was finally ready to leave, but whose need was most urgent.

        There was a very ill wizard named Loganach in a cave to the north of the western lake. He’d asked for a portkey off of the island, so that he could receive medical care, because he’d been sick for months and wasn’t getting better. I thought at first that his symptoms were similar to Draco’s and that maybe there was a common cause of illness on the island, but that hypothesis didn’t hold water. When I reached Loganach, he had none of Draco’s symptoms and was instead suffering from a severe chest infection.

        I stayed with Loganach, tending to the gravely ill man while we waited for my next portkey to activate. He was no longer eating on his own, his throat too raw to be worth the pain, but at least he was still drinking, so there was hope. I cleaned him up, fed him soup, and made certain he was well hydrated, before I handed over the memory crystal and sent him away by portkey.

        I took a different way back to Malfoy Cave, flying through a slightly more northern pass, heading east to the one entrance to the valley. Malfoy Cave was slightly to the south of the middle of the island, so that put this pass about dead middle. Along the way I stopped at a few more caves, giving out another portkey and more parchments, in between dodging ferocious dragons. This region was more heavily guarded by the terrorists and the locals seemed to think that the main terrorist headquarters was right around here, although they didn’t know exactly where.

        With so many dragons on the loose, my return trip took even longer than the trip there, because I could only travel when the dragons were sleeping. These particular dragons were morning and evening creatures, napping during the heat of midday and the chill of midnight. That meant I had to be on the opposite schedule, sleeping mornings and evenings and flying during midday and midnight, if it wasn’t too cloudy at night that was, since I was navigating by moonlight.

        By the time I returned to Malfoy Cave, I wanted nothing more than to lie back in a comfortable bed and relax. I knew Draco wouldn’t let me in, but it was still a disappointment when I found myself once again camped out in my tent on the outer porch of Malfoy Cave.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the event of a war, I’d think I’d leave the island. But whatever the crisis is, some people always choose to stay behind to protect their property. I think the fact that the precious dragons are at stake is a major factor keeping the dragon spiritualist in place guarding them.
> 
> I promised adventure; is this story living up to your expectations? Is it too little or too much action? I figure that whenever Draco refuses to see Harry, Harry will keep going off to rescue people; it’s in Harry’s nature, after all. Please Review!


	11. Chapter11

            I spent most of the next two weeks on Draco’s porch, waiting for Ford and Caireall to begin the rescue of the western merfolk. While I waited, I tried to solve the mystery regarding what Draco was hiding and where the Malfoy twins had come from.

            Hermione wasn’t much help, because she couldn’t find any of the most informative books on dragon spiritualism. She found references to them, pointing her to the grand Mystic Dragon Library buried under the mountains of the dragon reserve, but it seemed there were no copies outside of the reserve. Still she was bound and determined, planning on contacting the myriad of refugees who’d left the island via one of my portkeys. Surely one of them must have more information or better yet, brought one of their sacred books with them.

            I wanted Hermione to try, hoping that she was right, but I didn’t truly believe she’d be successful. One of the reasons the cave yahoos were so opposed to leaving the reserve was that their religious beliefs ordained that their religious books were not to leave the island. There was a fear that the books would be wiped clean of all writing without the presence of the dragon magic to protect them. Therefore I highly doubted that any of the refugees had brought a copy of any of their sacred books with them.

            Draco was gracious enough to contact me through his holographic projection once a day and I used the opportunity to slip in a few questions. If I asked too many or asked too directly, he got mad and cut off the communication, but if I asked just right, he’d answer. I wasn’t sure what value the information I’d gleaned from him was, other than to rule out an affair with a married witch. He’d been so offended when I asked, that he cut off communication with me for three days. But when I asked if he was gay, he nodded in confirmation. Thus I was reasonably certain the mother of the twins had been a surrogate, not a lover. And I was slowly narrowing down the list, by asking how his friends and various known pureblood acquaintances were. So far none of the names I’d brought up had struck a chord, but eventually, if I kept at it, I was certain I’d come across the right name and he’d respond by cutting off communication.

            In addition to wheedling information out of Draco, I went on another expedition, this one to the other side of the highest mountain that bordered Malfoy valley, where the Mystic Dragon Library was located, to retrieve one of the sacred holy books. The cave was warded, so I first had to stop at the one inhabited cave nearby and ask the old dragon shawoman to let me in. She agreed and I almost convinced her to leave and save herself. But in the end, she couldn’t leave the dragon spirits, even to save her life, because someone had to guard the books. She was running low on food, so I left her some and promised to return the book she lent me in pristine condition.

            I took the book back to my tent to read carefully, trying not to damage it in any way as I decoded the confusing scripter. It was comprised mostly of recordings of the stories of those who had been kissed by the dragon. There were many stories of infertile couples who’d come to the island to conceive and been miraculously cured of their infertility. There were also many stories of cave yahoos communing with the dragon spirits while conceiving their children.

            The book seemed endless and wasn’t really providing any new information. I was beginning to think of the dragon spirit as a pervert watching the sex acts, leaving behind babies in its wake. But I couldn’t find anything on what happened when a single wizard was kissed by the dragon or mention of the dragon spirit possessing people and forcing them to commit the sex acts. Thus I was beginning to lose hope that this book held the answers. If only Hermione was here, she’d bunker down in that sacred library and not come out until she knew all of the dragon spirit’s secrets.

            Thus I was relieved when settled with another task to complete to occupy my time. I received word that there was a witch named Nora Breckenridge living in a cave to the east of my location who had indicated her desire to leave. I still had one functional portkey with me that had yet to activate, so I made a detour to deliver it. She was very grateful, since she was out of food, and promised not to miss the short active window for the portkey. It was good news, because it meant yet another civilian would be safe, but she didn’t have any useful information for me regarding the dragon spirits when I asked.

            Breckenridge said the phrase “dragon kissed,” was synonymous with pregnant and if applied to a wizard, it meant he’d gotten someone pregnant. If that was true, I didn’t see how it was responsible for Draco’s strange behavior now. I already knew about his children and obviously he had once gotten a witch pregnant. Why would he be trying to hide something I already knew? Elf clues really do make no sense at all.

            And so I went back to my usual spot on the porch of Malfoy Cave. It wasn’t long after that when Ford and Caireall finally set off to rescue the western merfolk. They flew in around the island, hugging the coast, but just out of smelling range of most the dragons, to minimize their chances of being pursued. They didn’t completely evade the dragons, but the dragon who picked up their scent was riderless and wanted nothing more than to sniff them. It made for a bit of excitement to write home about, but was less dangerous than our first rescue mission.

            I met my partners at the lake, having avoided my own dragon tail and dodged a pair of terrorists on brooms. Before we started, they removed fresh portkeys, more protean charmed parchments, and supplies of food from their knapsacks and passed them over to me. I passed back debris that had once been functional portkeys. Then there was the detour to the cave where I’d left the body of the murder victim I’d found on my previous trip this way. Ford pulled a body bag out of his knapsack and the three of us maneuvered the body into it. Ford stored the body bag and all of the evidence I’d collected into his knapsack and then we were finally ready to get started on the rescue mission.

            Ford was starting to get a sense for these Scottish lakes and was able to find the right path quicker this time. It was more of the same, dead bodies blocking the passage and a huge underwater cavern full of trapped merfolk. These merpeople had been trapped so long without food that they’d been using a channel that connects directly to the sea to bring in fish, so that they didn’t starve; they were freshwater creatures and only able to stand the salt water for short periods, which made going as far as the next island over most impractical. The months seemed to be flying by with very little progress and the one year mark from the start of the altercation was quickly approaching. A year was a long time for this many people to be without proper stores of food.

            I knew these beings would have no knowledge of the imaginary Lena Malfoy, but I asked anyway. Not only had they never heard of another Malfoy on the island or another family associated with the Malfoy family on the island, but they were downright offended when I asked about a merpeople/human romantic relationship. Still, they were grateful we were rescuing them and to show their appreciation they didn’t skewer me on one of their tridents for asking about such an offensive topic.

            We had several hours to rest and recuperate before handing out the portkeys to the merpeople. Fork and Caireall went back with the survivors, while I returned to Malfoy Cave with my fresh supplies. Draco of course didn’t let me in, but he did send Lifton to retrieve the food.

            “Lifton, as far as I can tell, being kissed by the dragon just means someone conceived a baby or was conceived with dragon magic. What does that have to do with what Draco’s hiding?” I asked the elf.

            “Bonnie told Lifton to tell Harry Sodding Potter that he is the _stupidiest_ human the dragons have ever kissed and that he wouldn’t know a dragon if it ate him alive,” Lifton replied.

            “Ah, okay….I don’t know what to say to that.”

            “Sotty says that Harry Sodding Potter ought to have been swallowed whole by a dragon, rather than kissed by one,” Lifton said.

            “And, um, what does, er, Draco have to say about this?” I asked, wondering what was going on.

            “Master Draco has forbidden us from talking to Harry Sodding Potter about it. Lifton will have to iron his hands for telling. Fat lot of good it will do.”

            “But you haven’t told me anything!”

            “Lifton _has_ told Harry Sodding Potter _everything!_ ”

            “All you’ve told me is that he’s been kissed by a dragon, but I already knew he was kissed by a dragon! That’s where the twins came from, isn’t it?”

            “Master Draco has been kissed _again_ ,” Lifton said, putting grave emphasis on the last word.

            “Again? Meaning he’s gotten another witch up the duff?”

            “Lifton cannot say.” As Lifton spoke, he pulled at his ears so harshly I worried he was going to rip them off. “Master Draco ordered Lifton not to say.” Then he proceeded to bang his head against the stone floor and mutter about what a bad elf he was.

            “Stop that Lifton!” I grabbed him up by the arms, dangling him above the ground so that he couldn’t keep bashing himself. “Now, just hold on a minute and help me figure something out. What should I do? How do I get back into the house and how do I find out what’s going on?”

            “Lifton does not know, but Lifton does know that Harry Sodding Potter _must_.”

            “Why? What’s going on? Why is it so crucial?”

            I could tell by the grunting and groaning that followed that Lifton really wanted to tell me, but couldn’t. In the end I let him go with orders not to hurt himself, which I knew wouldn’t be followed, because I wasn’t his master and he’d broken his master’s rules.

            I was left there alone to contemplate what exactly was going on. Who, exactly, was pregnant? Was it the same woman who had carried the twins? If so, how did she get down there? Was she there all along and I’d simply missed her in the never ending tunnels? Or had she left, having hid out in some other cave on the island and returned while I was away? Or was it someone else entirely, such as a female terrorist? Or perhaps it was a mermaid and he was the one with the secret taboo relationship… That last idea I dismissed almost as soon as it occurred to me, because it made no sense at all. Draco had admitted to being gay and the children were clearly human.

            I wrote to Hermione with my new information, hoping that she’d notice something that I’d overlooked. But it’s a lot harder to pick up on little things when hearing about them second hand, so she was just as confused as I was. She did confirm that she’d contacted all of the refugees and none of them had come forward with a book on dragon mysticism that she could borrow, but a few had been willing to sit down with her and tell her about their religion.

            From the interviews and what I’d told Hermione, she concluded that the entire religion was nothing more than the millennia long accumulation of dragon magic manifesting itself in hyper fertility and wonderful sex. Well that was nothing new, because I knew firsthand how great the sex was, but I didn’t see how it helped me. What I needed was a way into Malfoy Cave. When I relayed this to Hermione, she asked me why it was so urgent. If Draco wasn’t asking for my help and had been through the birthing process before, surely he was more than capable of handling things this time around as well. I wasn’t sure why I felt so strongly about it, other than Lifton had sounded so insistent, but I felt the dragon magic pulling me towards the cave. The fact that I couldn’t get inside the cave was driving me crazy, like an itch I just couldn’t ever scratch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So what did you think of Lifton’s message. If you pay close attention, he has told Harry enough to figure out what is going on this time…  
> I would like to thank Ness for reviewing the last chapter! Your feedback inspires me to write more :D  
> Please Review!


	12. Chapter12

            It was my partner Ford who came up with an idea to get me into the Malfoy Cave. I wrote him of my desires while discussing our upcoming plans to rescue the merpeople and he wrote back, “It’s too bad you can’t use underwater caves like the merfolk do to get where you want to go.”

            It took me a night to mull it over, but then it occurred to me than an underground lake let out onto the bottommost level of the Malfoy cave. If only I could find my way, I could use the Bubblehead charm to swim in. Thus I started keeping an eye out for maps showing the underground waterways on the island.

            With the western merpeople rescued, my partners and I moved on to plans to rescue the eastern mertown. It was the most dangerous rescue of the lot, because the lake was right under the terrorists’ noses. The heaviest presence of the enemy was in the east and about a mile north of the highest peak, including the eastern merfolk’s territory. The rescue of the northern merfolk would be easier, because they were far removed from the epicenter of activity, but they were the last to be attacked, while the eastern had been first. The eastern ones were attacked three months before their northern counterparts, a full year ago now. It was time we made an attempt.

            I snuck down in the dead of night on a particularly clear summer night. The dragons and the terrorists alike were asleep. There was only one pair of terrorists on brooms up keeping watch and being human, they couldn’t detect me. I was worried that my invisibility cloak might set off their secrecy detection wards, but it didn’t. I didn’t know if that was because they didn’t set any, if my original cloak was special in its immunity, or if all invisibility cloaks were safe, because after all, that first alarm could’ve been set off by Caireall’s disillusionment charm and not the cloaks Ford and I were wearing.

            Regardless of why, I was able to sneak east to retrieve the memory crystal with little difficulty. My Mermish must’ve improved, because I spoke the password and got out of there in record time. I was even able to stop at a cave on my way back and give a portkey to yet another civilian who was finally ready to leave. I saw said civilian pulled into the air with the memory crystal by the portkey. My fellow Aurors would be there waiting when he comes down to confiscate the crystal and deliver it to my partners.

            The island was close to ninety-five percent evacuated now, in terms of its human population. What was left of the merpopulation was likely fifty percent evacuated and on its way to seventy-five percent. In another few months, the merfolk would be a hundred percent evacuated and with any luck, the human population would be too. I was pleased with my work as I made my way back to the Malfoy Cave.

            Hopefully Ford would contact me soon with a copy of the underwater tunnels on the eastern side of the island. So far the maps of the south and west had provided no known routes into the underground lake of Malfoy tunnel, but I was certain that there had to be a way in. I no longer held any false hopes that Draco would just let me into his cave. Obviously he was going to play things close to the vest and keep the elusive mother of his children a secret at all cost. I only hoped I could get inside in time to help if something went wrong. A pregnant witch ought to be somewhere safe with access to St. Mungo’s, not trapped on a Scottish island with little chance of escape.

            A week passed before I heard any news on the eastern memory crystal. It was bad news, possible the worst news. Ford informed me that the last entry in the crystal detailed a horrible atrocity committed on the merpeople by the terrorists. Their town was the largest of the mertowns and the first one hit, without warning. The able bodied men fought while the women, children, and elderly hid in their stronghold. Once the warriors were decimated, the women and old men tried to rescue the injured, but were caught doing so. The terrorists entered the lake with Bubblehead charms and pursued the mermaids back to their stronghold. There the merfolk pushed the terrorists back and successfully fought back, but that didn’t last long. The terrorists retreated, only to return with much greater numbers to attack the underwater sanctuary. Many terrorists were killed, but they kept coming, taking out as many merfolk as they could. Eventually there weren’t enough able bodied mermaids left to defend the elderly and the children and the terrorists broke through their defenses. Once through, mass murder followed.

            A few children escaped through a second exit, which led to the open ocean. There happened to have been a small mermaid hunting party out looking for food and they met up with the children upon their return. They led the children to another much smaller cave and then went to check out the situation. They were the ones to discover the aftermath of the genocide. No one was left alive, so they snuck up to the lake surface in the dead of night, left one last entry in their memory crystal, and returned to the children.

            The small group was allegedly headed north to meet up with the northern merfolk on the island or possibly to a nearby muggle inhabited island. The former choice was only a possibility, depending on the state the northern town was in after their own attack. The latter choice was unlikely, particularly because merlings were unlikely to survive the long sea crossing in salt water. Still, they feared it was their only chance for survival and the muggles couldn’t be near as awful as the terrorists. Their biggest concern on the muggle island was being careful not to be seen.

            Since there was no one left alive to rescue, our rescue of the eastern merfolk was canceled. We’d surely go back at the end of the standoff to gather evidence of the massacre, but living merfolk had to come first. Even though the northern mertown was the last to be hit by the terrorists, they were still attacked the better part of a year ago. Those merpeople shouldn’t be made to wait for rescue any longer than they had to. Thus our focus shifted.

            I went on a three-week long expedition north to retrieve the memory crystal of the northern mertown. Of the lakes, it was the furthest away from Malfoy Valley, on sort of an archipelago of the island that reached out into the Atlantic Ocean. It had been almost a year since I’d visited many of the civilians in the north, because they were among the first I rescued. As such, I took the eastern route up and the western route back, in an effort to stop by as many of their caves as possible.

            Visiting with the northern civilians was more of the same. There were starving people who were finally willing to leave, who accepted my portkeys gladly, even agreeing to form up into groups to maximize the usage of my remaining portkeys. I still had about a dozen portkeys, but I’d been counting on getting a fresh batch before heading north and that wasn’t the case. There were also the reluctant ones, who agreed to go only because the conflict didn’t seem to be ending and had already gone on too long, but didn’t really want to go. They tended to have friends of family who were ready to go and promised that said witch or wizard was going with them.

            At least half of the civilians were still insistent on staying, accepting only the Protean Charmed parchments from me. Those were the deeply religious ones with plenty of food stores and something they felt they had to protect; whether it was their cave, their books, or the dragons themselves, they feared wouldn’t be there when they returned, so they stayed. I begged them to go, for their own safety, but to no avail. I offered them what help I could along the way, sneaking into terrorist food caches and redistributing the food to the locals.

            There were plenty of heart pumping chases, in which I evaded dragons, terrorists on dragons, and terrorists on brooms, occasionally narrowly escaping with my life. I was getting rather good at dodging dragons and I found the thrill of the chase exciting. It was almost disappointing when I managed to slip through unnoticed. The pattern of terrorist activity had clicked in my mind, so I tended to know when it was safe to travel. It didn’t always work and sometimes I really had to travel when the terrorists and their dragons were awake, because it had been a dark and cloudy night, but more often than not, I flew without being spotted.

            Probably the worst part for me was when I came across the dead bodies. There was an older man dead in his bed, possibly from a natural cause like a heart attack. There was a young woman dead in her cave, who looked like she’d starved to death she was so rail thin. Saddest of all was a family of three, mother, father, and child, all found murdered. The father was outside the cave, burnt to a crisp, which was what alerted me to the atrocity. The mother was crumpled dead on the floor, looking to be standing in front of the child. The child was slumped over onto the table.

            Each dead body ate at me. I kept thinking that I should’ve done more to protect these people. Why hadn’t the Ministry acted already? Why hadn’t the entire Auror squad forced their way onto the island? Why were the dead just left here to rot, the evidence decaying by the day? I knew the reason why; we simply didn’t have enough man power, intelligence, or weapons yet. The terrorists were relatively contained on the island and there weren’t all that many people left who could be harmed.

            The Ministry wanted to wait until the merpeople were out, develop a complete underground map of the waterways, sneak in undetected, and throw the terrorists completely off guard. I had assurances from my bosses, the head Auror and the Minister of Magic themselves, that they were working on a plan. In the meantime, I was to hold tight, document what evidence I could, and evacuate anyone who would go. I spent about a day on each body, gathering what evidence I could and stowing the corpses away someplace safe and cold, to minimize the decay until they could be collected.

            On my way back from obtaining the memory crystal of the northern merfolk, I used one of my last portkeys to send a family of four composed of a father and his three teenage children, to safety. The father took the memory crystal, to hand over to my partners, and I went back to Malfoy Cave.

            While I was waiting to hear back from my fellow Aurors, Lifton the house elf paid me a visit. It was the middle of the night when he came, which was odd, because Draco always sent his elf to me during the day.

            “Mister Harry Sodding Potter, sir,” Lifton said, startling the crap out of me.

            I wasn’t expecting him and didn’t hear the stone front door to the cave move, or the elf come into my tent. I had fallen asleep searching a map obtained from the eastern memory crystal of the underwater channels and passages. Ford had sent it to me during my expedition north, but I’d yet to fully scrutinize it. There was no obvious route into Malfoy Cave, but I hadn’t given up yet, because it was possible that there was an as yet unidentified way in hidden amongst these channels. When put together with the maps from the southern and western mertowns, they made a more complete picture and revealed many more passages. One of them had to take me where I wanted to go.

            “Lifton! Shite! You scared me,” I said, sitting up suddenly.

            “Sorry sir. Lifton is not to be coming, but Lifton had to come sir. The time is drawing near when Harry Potter must help Master Draco.”

            “Will he let me in then?” I asked, assuming the elf meant that I was needed to assist with the birth.

            “No, Master will not. He has ordered Bonnie and Sotty to do it, but they cannot! We elves have never done such a thing before and Sotty begged Lifton to come ask Harry Sodding Potter for assistance.”

            “Can’t Draco do it? He did it alone the last time and that was twins.”

            “No, it will be much harder without apparition. The twins were an apparition birth,” Lifton revealed.

            “And the Ministry’s anti-apparition ward is still up. Just great,” I grumbled.

            “We elves don’t know what to do. Harry Sodding Potter must help,” Lifton pleaded.

            “Yes, I’ll help. Let me in when the time comes.”

            “Master Malfoy has _ordered_ Lifton and all of the other elves not to.”

            “Then disobey.”

            “Harry Sodding Potter does not know what he asks! Lifton will already have to stick his head in the oven for this!”

            “Don’t do it, please! I’ll try my best to find my own way in. Hopefully I can make it before the time comes. When, exactly, will that be?”

            I was gone for almost three months during which the conception could’ve happened. I’d been sitting out on this porch for an addition month and a half now, so by my reasoning, a pregnancy would be about halfway over.

            “Lifton does not know, but soon. Very soon.”

            “What does that mean? Like one month, or like four months?” Soon didn’t exactly help me. What does an elf mean by soon?

            “Lifton cannot say sir. Lifton does not know, sir. Please pardon Lifton, sir.”

            “Yes, er, sorry. I shouldn’t be putting this all on you, Lifton. Just, if the time comes before I can manage to get in, you must disobey Draco and let me in. I can help if you just let me in.”

            Lifton nodded, before excusing himself and reentering the cave.

            I turned back to my maps with more determination than ever. I also sent word to Hermione to stop researching dragon spiritualism and focus instead on home births. I’d need to know everything there was to know about the subject and quickly. Obviously apparition birth was out, so hopefully a vaginal birth would be possible this time. If not, there was always the muggle Cesarean section. I would have to study up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It is only a matter of time now before Harry gets back inside that cave and discovers the rest of Draco’s secrets… There is only one mertown left to rescue.
> 
> As for Harry’s cluelessness, one reviewer had an excellent point on his subject: If Harry doesn't know that men can get pregnant (and he doesn't, because mpreg is possible only with dragon magic), then he'll never figure it out, no matter how many times Lifton tells him. I think this might just be right. I keep wanting to sit down and write a chapter where Harry puts it all together, but it never comes and I think that may just be the reason. What do you think?  
> Please Review!


	13. Chapter13

            A few days later Ford contacted me with good news: the northern memory crystal indicated a thriving merpopulation in hiding. With the diminished terrorist presence in the north, the northern merfolk had been able to make regular visits to the lake shore to record what was going on. They reportedly had hundreds of survivors, the most so far, hold up in their stronghold. There were so many of them that making forays into the ocean and the lake at night to hunt for food were regular occurrences.

            Ford informed me that they would make the rescue attempt the next week. They already had most everything ready to go from the canceled rescue of the eastern mer-town. If they acted immediately, many of the preparations could still be used, such as the underwater portkeys. He also had another map for me, which was more extensive than the other three combined and filled in many critical missing areas. Unlike the other maps, this one covered the interior of the island, including the Malfoy Cave. Now if only I could connect the passages and find the best way in.

            Hermione sent me material on home births and the magical version of the emergency Caesarean section, but I didn’t have time to read them. I stowed them in my knapsack and concentrated on the maps. I was onto something, I knew it. The maps were hard to follow and it was unclear where passages led in places. It was particularly hard to know if a passage was wide enough for a human with a Bubblehead charm. But, there was clearly a large passage from the north into the interior of the island, with a great number of channels branching off of it. One of them had to connect.

            I only had three candidate routes to choose from that I thought ought to get me into the Malfoy Cave. The beginning and ends of all three routes were the same, but there was a region with a topology reminiscent of Swiss cheese in between and there were three paths through it that all looked to lead to my destination. That meant a total of five passages to study more closely, which narrowed down my work load significantly. There were notes in Mermish on the map, key words naming the major channels and numbers, corresponding to blurbs written on the back of the original. Ford hadn’t had time to translate the burbs for me, so I spent my time attempting the translation myself.

            I had to leave again sooner than I would’ve liked, in order to make the long journey north in time to meet Ford and Caireall at the northern lake. I packed up my tent and all of my things, with the plan of staying in the north after the rescue until I was ready to make the longer subterranean voyage.

            “Are you finally leaving for good then, Potter?” Draco’s apparition asked, appearing suddenly.

            “No, but it’ll be another long trip to the north and I fancy a bit more comfort along the way. You can count on me being back in about a month,” I answered.

            I considered asking him then about what Lifton had said. Perhaps if I confronted him, letting him know that I knew he had a pregnant witch inside his cave he’d stop hiding her and just let me in. Considering that I was planning on swimming in from the north side of the island, I had to at least try, didn’t I? In the end I decided the answer was no, because Lifton would be in real trouble if Draco found out that he’d told. I didn’t think Draco would go so far as to kill the elf, but it was his mother’s family who had the bad taste to hang elf heads on the walls, so I wouldn’t put it past him. If I was revealing that I knew, I wanted to be in the cave already to protect Lifton.

            “You still won’t be welcome,” Draco replied.

            “That’s what I find so endearing about this place,” I replied with a smirk, knowing good and well I was irritating him.

            He should be irritated, after shutting me out all this time. His image scowled, before blinking out, and I was left to finish my packing.

            I stopped as little as possible this time, only to rest and avoid dragons and terrorists. On my previous trip, I had found the western route along the backside of the island much more deserted than the eastern route, so I took the western route again. Having just been this way, there were no new dead bodies and no one starving that had to be rescued, so it was a clear shoot, as long as I slept during the evenings, when the terrorist patrols with dragons were most active. Often I flew in the middle of the night, if it wasn’t too dark, but if it was, I holed up in a cave and pulled out the maps and my Mermish to English dictionary, trying to decipher those five little blurbs.

            By the time I made it to the lake, Caireall and Ford were already there and had spent twelve hours resting from their long journey. They’d come in from a muggle island to the north, flying across the rough sea separating the islands. There was nowhere to rest in between, so they had flown straight through the eighteen hour broom-flight. Needless to say, they needed the rest and weren’t at all cross with me for delaying them.

            While I had a mer-expert’s attention, I asked, “Ford, can you have a look at a few sentences for me?”

            “Sure, no problem after you retrieved the memory crystals. That saves us loads of work, you’ve no idea,” Ford agreed.

            And so Ford translated the blurbs associated with all five of the underground channels I was considering taking. One of the three channels in the middle was described as wide enough for a barrel of crabs to pass, which I took as a good sign. The other two were less encouraging and I decided I would only try going the other ways if the first way was blocked.

            “Well it looks like you’ve done it Harry! Well done; you’re certain to get into Malfoy Cave now,” Ford concluded.

            “Do you think you’ll go straight away after the rescue?” Caireall asked.

            “Maybe…is there anything else I ought to do in preparation?” I asked.

            “I don’t see what else there would be, other than to have a separate waterproof pack of food and water that you can eat and drink from during the journey, without having to come up for air,” Ford answered.

            “Great, I’ve forgotten all about eating and drinking during the journey!” I exclaimed in frustration. “I’ll at least need another bag for my water, even if I don’t eat along the way.”

            “Don’t worry mate, we’ve got your back,” Caireall said pulling out a bum bag from his knapsack, along with a bag of fresh portkeys.

            “Great!” I replied, taking the items. I strapped the bum bag around my waist and stored the portkeys in my knapsack. While I was at it, I removed my expired portkeys and passed them over to Caireall.

            “Yes, we’ve already filled it with canteens of water and food that doesn’t go bad when wet, such as apples and carrot sticks. There are also some really awful granola bars, because we didn’t know what else to get you,” Ford said.

            “We figure, mate, that once you’re three days in and starving to death, you would be appreciative of a granola bar, no matter how gross,” Caireall added.

            “Thanks guys, this is really great,” I replied, clapping them each on the back.

            There was a bit more talk, especially because this was to be our last rescue mission together and there was no guarantee there would be another air filled bubble for us to speak in once we reached the stronghold. The three of us speculated on what the Ministry’s next move was to be, because the situation on the island couldn’t be allowed to continue, no matter how contained it was. Once these merfolk were rescued, there would be only a few dozen innocent sentient beings left on the island, perfect for the counter attack.

            Ford thought the Ministry should move in right away, guns blazing, but Caireall pointed out that this reserve housed the largest population of Hebridean Blacks left. If the Ministry wasn’t careful, the species might be destroyed. Having spent the last year living amongst the dragons, I hated them, but at the same time, I had to admit that they were beautiful, majestic, and intelligent creatures. The world would be worse off if these dragons were sacrificed in the name of peace. I, for one, thought that the Ministry needed to neutralize the terrorists without harming the dragons. Maybe the few that were allowing themselves to be ridden would have to be destroyed, but the others shouldn’t be impacted.

            “Time to get a move on, isn’t it?” Ford asked, checking his watch.

            “Yes, I quite agree. I’d say the merfolk have waited long enough,” Caireall agreed and I seconded.

            And so the three of us were off on our last rescue mission. This was the largest lake of the three, filled with the most beautiful aquatic creatures at every turn. The Grindylows were somewhat of a nuisance, but the freshwater octopi were breath taking with their purple stripes. With a larger lake, it was harder to find the correct passageway. There was one giant entrance to the system of tunnels, but it branched off into a hundred different passages that each in turn branched off a hundred different ways. But Ford was getting better at figuring these things out, so he found the correct way in only an hour.

            There were some bodies along the way, but not the blockade of bodies the other mer-strongholds had constructed. We stopped to collect the dead into Ford’s body bag, as usual, but were pleased when we reached the end after only having found a couple of dozen corpses. This cave wasn’t larger than the others, but it was linked to many more caves. With a few questions to the merfolk, Ford was able to determine that there were merpeople scattered through dozens of caves, because there were too many to fit comfortably in the one stronghold.

            The three of us were led to a cave with a pocket of air, where we coordinated the evacuation effort. We had dozens of underwater portkeys set to go off in just one day’s time and with so many merpeople to rescue, each portkey had to take the maximal number of beings. Once the memory crystal revealed there were so many merfolk left in the north, the Aurors ordered more portkeys, but they could only be made so fast and with the last minute change, that meant a limited number. The fact that the portkeys couldn’t all be in the same large room complicated matters, especially because there were only three of us and Ford was the only one of us who spoke fluid Mermish. Caireall’s Mermish was at least better than mine, but that wasn’t saying much.

            Luckily, there were several merpeople among this group who spoke English. They also had their leadership system largely intact and were able to help us coordinate the evacuation. I was to take one portkey to one of the auxiliary caves with a mermaid who said her name translated to Seagrass. Seagrass and I would ensure everyone in our group was able to touch the life-raft portkey.

            It seemed like a good plan and I didn’t see what could go wrong, so I found myself quizzing Seagrass on the underwater tunnels. She was very helpful and knowledgeable, having traveled through much of the system many times herself. She confirmed that the route I was planning to take was very wide and that I wouldn’t have a problem getting through, but she advised me not to take it. It was a route for strong swimmers she said and she didn’t think I qualified. Instead she pointed me in the direction of the thinnest channel, which she said was plenty large enough for one human to fit through and had the added advantage of possessing an air pocket halfway through.

            With an air pocket, I’d be able to take a break to eat and possibly to rest. Plus I wouldn’t be nearly so worn out if the water I was swimming through flowed at a more reasonable rate. And, according to Seagrass, in this channel the water flowed into the center of the island, while it flowed outward, to the sea in the other two directions. I could basically lie back and let the current take me into Malfoy Cave. Of course I’d still have to steer my course, to make sure I took the right turns and that my body didn’t get scraped against the stone walls of the tunnel, but all in all it seemed preferable.

            Thus after I saw the merpeople off and double checked that everyone was indeed gone, I set off straightaway for Malfoy Cave.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As promised, Harry is finally going back to Malfoy cave! What do you think he’ll find there? How do you Draco will react when Harry swims in through the lake? Please Review!


	14. Chapter14

            My biggest complaint about my arduous underwater journey was that it was long. My second complaint was that it was dark. I had my wand, but still it was hard to see and bothersome. My third complaint was that some of the rocks were sharp. I thought they’d be smooth from years of erosion by the water, but that wasn’t always the case. At least there were aquatic animals down there to keep me on my toes and prevent me from falling asleep. There is nothing like a blind eel or a freshwater shark to keep one awake after twenty-four hours in the water.

            The journey took me two and a half very long days. It would’ve only taken just the two days if I didn’t stop for twelve hours to sleep, but after twenty plus hours of swimming, I really needed the sleep. I was even more exhausted when I finally reached the end of the tunnel. I popped my head up to see the cavern of the bottommost level of Malfoy Cave, lit only by my wand light. It was very dark even with my wand, because of the vastness of it. Initially, I couldn’t even see the shore and had to rely on a point-me spell to know which direction to head.

            I made my way to shore, where I dried myself off with a spell. Then I dug around in my knapsack for a more suitable change of clothes, because I didn’t fancy showing up inside Draco’s house wearing my swim shorts. Then I donned my invisibility cloak and went upstairs to do some spying, because I thought Draco would hide the mother of his children away the moment he knew I was around. My shoes, which I’d freshly put on, made a clacking sound on the stone floor, so I cast a muffling charm on them.

            The door to Draco room was open and I could hear his voice and that of a female elf. As I entered the room quietly, I took in quite the sight. It was so odd I couldn’t figure out what was going on at first. Draco was lying there on his bed, propped up on his elbows, leaning forward and yelling at his house elves. All four of the Malfoy house elves were there, Lifton on one side, Upwood on the other, Sotty at the foot of the bed, and Bonnie crouched down on her knees on the bed, next to Draco. It was primarily Bonnie Draco was yelling at.

            “You have to do it! It won’t come out otherwise, not with Harry Sodding Potter’s anti-apparition ward! It’s not that complicated! I’ve the book right here! All you have to do it cut down the middle, like this.” As Draco yelled the last part, he drew some sort of implement down what looked like a pale beach ball or an albino watermelon.

            “Bonnie cannot do it! Bonnie cannot c-c-c-c-cu-ut-t-t Master Draco! Please don’t make Bonnie do it!” Bonnie cried in response.

            “Then who? Sotty? Upwood? Lifton? Any volunteers?” Draco asked, waving the thing in his hand around. It had a shiny end.

            “W-why c-c-can’t w-we a–a-ask-k H-harry S-s-s-sod-d-ding P-p-pot-t-ter t-to d-d-do i-it?” Lifton asked.

            “Because Harry _Sodding_ Potter isn’t here, now is he? It’s only us and the boys. Do you expect me to do it myself?” Draco asked.

            “W-we c-c-c-could-d w-w-wait-t M-mast-ter D-draco, s-sir,” Upwood suggested.

            “H-harry S-s-sodding P-potter s-s-said he w-would c-come back-k, s-sir,” Lifton added.

            “Not bloody soon enough! This baby has to get out of me and the only way is to cut it out! Harry Sodding Potter made this mess, but he won’t be playing the hero this time! We need to cut it out before it’s too late!” Draco yelled, face turning red in anger.

            I realized two things then. One, Draco really was telling his elves my middle name was Sodding. But that realization paled in utter insignificance in comparison to the fact that the ball on his stomach was in fact his stomach and that _he_ was the one pregnant. I didn’t seem to have the mental capabilities at the moment to process the implications of that fact. I did however decide it was time to act, throwing off my invisibility cloak and stepping forward.

            “Harry Sodding Potter _is_ here to save the day, if you’ll let me,” I said.

            “W-w-” Draco spluttered.

            “Are you in labor? Is the baby coming right now? Is it in danger?” I asked.

            “N-no. What are _you doing here_?” Draco asked, still flabbergasted.

            “I swam back from the northern lake; it was quicker,” I answered.

            “You _swam_ here?”

            “Yes, I came up in a cavern below this level. I heard the screaming and came up. It’s a good thing I did too; were you really going to have your _elf_ preform a medical operation on you?”

            “What other choice have you left me?”

            “You could’ve taken one of my portkeys for one! How many times did I beg you to go? We could still go; you could have this baby in St. Mungo’s!”

            “No, I bloody well can _not Potter_! Dragon magic is needed for male pregnancies. If I were to leave this island, my body would no longer be capable of supporting this baby. It would die before you could even cut it out. The only solution is to cut it out here.”

            “That can’t be the only solution! There must be something else!”

            “Apparition birth is out, thanks to _you_!”

            “What about a magical Caesarean section?”

            “That’s what I’m doing, isn’t it?” he asked, waving the knife around, making the elves cringe and kneel lower to the floor.

            “No, that’s the muggle way. Here, Hermione sent me some notes on it, let me just find it.” As I spoke, I pulled my knapsack around and started rummaging through it. There was a ton of stuff in the way and I had to pull out the portkeys to find it. “Here, see, a magical Caesarean Section. It’s like the muggle version, only the hole is created using magic, so it’s safer. If I can have some time to study the procedure, I’ll be happy to give it a go.”

            “I _can’t_ believe I’m actually considering letting _you_ of all people perform a Caesarean section on me. Dragon Spirits help me.”

            “Would you rather I fetch the Dragon Spirit Shawoman who lives on the other side of the mountain? Perhaps she could deliver the baby? Or I could ask around to see if there are any midwives left on the island.”

            “No, no one must know. I forbid it.”

            “How much time do I have then? Are you in labor?”

            “No, I bloody well am not in labor! I just wanted to get this done while I have a clear head is all.”

            “Good, then if you’ll give me a week.”

            “Very well. Sotty, you may tend to the children. Lifton, show our intruder to his usual room. Bonnie, do make something for dinner. Upwood, do whatever it is you normally do.” Draco waved a dismissive hand. The elves gushed with their deep gratitude and quickly scattered, all except Lifton, who waited for me to follow.

            The first thing I did when I made it back to my usual room was to write Hermione and Ron with the news. The second thing was to look over the parchment on magical Caesarean sections. It looked to be such a daunting task that the next thing I did was to write to the Aurors, asking if they could find out for me if there were any midwifes on the island. If there were, then I’d have to convince Draco to let someone know; surely it would be worth letting one person know if it meant that I wasn’t the one performing the complex surgery on him. Only after that did I think about settling into my room.

            Later, after a nap, I popped in at the nursery, to see how the twins were getting on with it all, only to find the room empty. No humans or elves were in the room and all of the twins’ things were gone. Instead the room was set up for a newborn, complete with a crib dressed in red. There were all of the typical baby things, such as changing table, rocking chair, and swing, along with a countertop set up for making bottles. The chest of drawers was filled with little blue and red things, indicating that Draco was already prepared for the birth. Judging by the blue and red colors, these were all things he’d had for the twins.

            I went back into the hall and used my ears to find Sotty and the twins in a room on the other side of Draco’s. The boys had toy trains they were pushing around a track. They looked up when they saw me.

            “Brodie! Roadie!” I exclaimed, holding open my arms for a hug and hoping that they still remembered me.

            “Harry!” “Harry!” they exclaimed almost in unison, jumping up, abandoning their train set, and running into my arms. They were taller now and I belatedly realized that I’d missed their third birthday some months ago.

            “Merlin, look how you’ve grown. I’ve missed you,” I said, tussling one blond head and then the other.

            “Where you go?” Brodie asked. I recognized him, as usual as the one in blue, while his brother was in red.

            “Father say you no come back,” Roadie accused.

            “Sorry, I was trying to come back, but I couldn’t get here,” I answered, not wanting them to know their father had kept me out.

            “Why you go?” Brodie asked.

            “To bring back medicine for Father. Remember he was sick when I left?”

            “Father baby tummy,” Roadie told me.

            “Baby,” Brodie confirmed, his fingers creeping into his mouth.

            “Hey, none of those fingers in your mouth now. You’re the big brother; you best start acting like it,” I said tugging on the little hand.

            “Train?” Roadie asked, pointing to the train set.

            “Yes, show me your trains,” I encouraged.

            The twins led me over to their toy and I played with them for a time, Sotty watching over while doing chores, such as folding clothes and mending socks. Later Sotty announced dinner time and I went with them to the dining room, assuming Draco would meet us there, but he didn’t show.

            “Master Draco said to serve dinner without him,” Upwood announced, coming into the room with our plates hovering in the air. Without house elf apparition, the elves couldn’t make the food magically appear on our plates.

            “I’ll go check on him,” I said, getting up from the table.

            I hurried along to Draco’s room, pressing my ear to the door before letting my presence be known. I shouldn’t have done it, but he’d hidden so much from me that I felt I had to spy if I really wanted to know what was going on with him. What I heard was a sob, so I announced myself with a knock and let myself in. “Draco?” I called.

            He was in a corner in the loo, squatting down, with tears dripping down his face. Folds of his green robes covered the large mound now squashed between his knees and his chest. He looked up at me and anger shot across his face, before he quickly wiped the tears away. He took in a deep breath, letting out another sob, before asking, “What are you doing here Potter?”

            “I came to see why you weren’t at dinner. If you’re pregnant, you need to eat.”

            “Why do you always have to butt in and act like you’re saving the day?”

            “Because you need my help.”

            “I need your help like I need doxies biting my ankles.”

            “Why were you crying?”

            “Because I’m a pregnant wizard stuck in a cave under an anti-apparition ward, you dolt. I’m tired of being pregnant; I want it to just come out already.”

            “I’m sorry. How can I help?”

            “I suppose letting me hex you will make me feel a bit better,” he conceded graciously.

            I raised an eyebrow, as if to ask if he were serious.

            “You broke into my house yet again. I should have the right to hex you for it.”

            “I saved you from preforming a muggle Caesarean on yourself. Surely that must absolve me of my crimes.”

            “That’s always how it is with you Potter; you disregard the rules when it suits you, but you expect everyone else to play by them. You’re a hypocrite.”

            “Er…right, well, are you ready for dinner? Here, let me help you up,” I said, changing the subject and holding out my hand.

            He glared at me and I feared he’d refuse me, before he took it. I sighed gratefully and helped him up.

* * *

 

            That night when I was lying in bed almost asleep, Draco came to me.

            “Don’t say a word or I’ll turn around and leave and never acknowledge that I was here in the first place,” Draco warned.

            At this point I wasn’t sure what he wanted, but I figured that if I kept quiet he’d get to the point and tell me. Thus I nodded and he stepped forward, shutting the door behind him.

            “I’m horny and in this state,” he gestured to his belly, “I can’t reach. It occurred to me that I could use you for a dildo. You did say you wanted to do it again and that you wanted to help. If you’re okay with that, then stay quiet and don’t say anything.

            Was I okay with being used as a dildo? That was an easy one: yes, it sounded like a wet dream come true! In fact, I couldn’t be sure this wasn’t a dream, it was so surreal. If Draco was willing, then I was all for it. I nodded eagerly, keeping my lips pressed together. My cock was already growing hard in my pants with my anticipation, my heart rate picking up and my breathing heavy.

            “You can’t tell anyone about this,” he said and I nodded. “I mean ever. And you can’t acknowledge that this ever happened. You’re a dildo, which means you can’t speak now and you won’t speak of it later. Can you handle that?”

            It wasn’t ideal, but if that was the price of brilliant sex, I was willing to pay it. I nodded.

            “Good. Now strip.”

            I did as instructed, getting up and removing my pajama bottoms and pants eagerly. He watched me, but didn’t move to take his own clothes off. I pointed to his robes, to indicate I wanted them off.

            “Lie down on the bed,” he said.

            I complied, lying down with my hard cock on display. His eyes glanced down, pupils going wide at the sight, and he licked his lips. He sat down on the bed, scooting further onto the bed, before kneeling next to me. I held my hands up for him to hold, to steady him as he went. He took my hands and moved one knee over my body, straddling me, and then sat back on my thighs. His clothes were still on, so I reached out to pull at his robes.

            “Wait just a minute now; I’m not ready,” he protested, slapping at my hand. I nodded, stopped pulling at his robes, and waited. “I need the dragon spirits to be present for this; it makes it better and easier to forget who my dildo is.” I nodded, to indicate I was okay with that, before shrugging, to indicate I didn’t know how. “You have to call them in your mind; don’t do it out loud. I’ll call them too. You’ll know when they’re here.”

            _Alright dragon magic, come help me get laid,_ I thought. I didn’t notice a difference, so I kept calling the dragon magic in my mind. _Come on dragons, I’m ready._

            Draco’s eyes were closed and I knew he too was calling to the dragon spirits. And then I felt something. It wasn’t as strong as it was the first time, because I could think, but it was a bit like being drunk. I didn’t have experience with drugs, but I thought it was like being high on sex. I was turned on before, but now I was so much hornier. I could feel my pulse racing through my neck and cock. My chest heaved with my rapid breathing and my ballocks ached with need for release.

            I noticed the change come over Draco too. He went from kneeling over me with his eyes closed, to rocking back and forth over me. Then his eyes opened, his pupils blown wide with lust and I could see his chest heaving underneath those robes he was still wearing. I pulled at the cloth again and this time he reached down to help me. He shifted, we pulled, and then we were throwing the robes to the other side of the room.

            Then he was kneeling there over my stomach naked in all his glory. It looked as if there was a glow about him and he was flushed from his cheeks down through his chest. He had nothing on underneath his robes and his cock was standing at attention, pressed firmly to the underside of his expanded stomach. His chest was still flat and his limbs thin, but his belly was as large as a large watermelon. If anything, his body turned me on even more and I wanted him so bad my cock ached.

            He leaned forward, pressing his lips to mine. I opened my mouth and deepened the kiss, taking in his heady scent and the luscious feeling of his lips against mine. His kisses were like fire the way they set me ablaze with passion. I wanted him so much I could feel the pre-cum dripping down my cock. He summoned lube, which he handed to me, and I prepared him as we snogged.

            When he was open and ready, he reached one hand back and grabbed me, with our mouths still joined. A jolt of pleasure shot through my body that was so intense I almost came, but I didn’t. He scooted backward, lifting his body, and lined his hole up with my cock in his hand. He guided me into him, his dripping wet heat engulfing me. All that mattered then was the intense pleasure coursing through my system as he lowered himself onto my shaft.

            He moaned and said, “Feels so full.” He took my hands then and led them to just below his baby bump. “Can you feel how full I am?”

            I nodded. I could feel his taut silky skin hot under my greasy fingertips. I was fascinated by the ample swell as I trailed my fingers up, leaving a trail of lube behind.

            He snapped his hips suddenly and I instantly grabbed his hips, whether to steady him or me I didn’t know. He started writhing back and forth on my dick in the most delicious way. It was so intense that I forgot that I was in the middle of snogging him; my mouth hanging open with my bottom lips just brushing against his lips as he thrust forward.

            He was riding me and it was so hot that all my mind could process was the ecstasy shooting from my cock to my ballocks with each and every movement. After a time he stopped, rested his head on my chest, and said, “I’m tired, you do it.”

            I wrapped my arms around his back, holding him there and bucked up into him. I could feel his protruding belly pushing into my stomach as I thrust in and out of that delicious hole. He was hot and moaning, eyes clinched shut. I leaned down and pressed a kiss to his lips, bucking my hips up into his willing body.

            I was about to come when he stopped me, pulling himself off of me. “Get up; it’s my turn to lie down while you do all the work,” he said.

            I did as instructed and he lay down in my place. He was on his side, legs bent at a right angle, and tucked my pillow under his belly. I stood there staring at the beauty before me, amazed that I was getting a second chance to experience the miracle of dragon sex.

            “Stop drooling and fuck me,” he said, motioning to his arse.

            I obeyed, kneeling over him and positioning my cock at his entrance. I entered him slowly and watched his eyes roll back in his head and the smirk turn into a moan of pleasure.

            “Oh, right there! Faster,” he encouraged.

            I picked up the pace, but not too fast, because I was weary of hurting his baby.

            “Harder,” he said with a moan.

            I snapped my hips forward harder, but still holding back.

            “Yes, don’t stop!” he cried.

            He was happy with the new pace for a while, but then he said, “I want you to fuck me so good I can’t sit down tomorrow; harder and faster, give me all you got.”

            “But the baby,” I protested, the only thing I said that night.

            “The baby is fine. A good fuck isn’t going to hurt it. Now shut up and fuck me good.”

            He would know better than me, so I did as he said. I fucked him as hard and as fast as I could, rapidly thrusting in and out of him with all of the force I could muster. Judging by the sounds he started making, he was enjoying it, his moans echoing off of the walls. I reached around and grabbed his cock, jerking him off as I fucked him. I was thrusting so hard I barely had to move my hand, because my hips pushed his cock into my hand each time I slammed into him.

            He screamed my name as he came, spurting hot white cum all over my hand, his stomach, and his thighs. I felt his walls clench my cock and then I was cumming too, filling his hole with my sperm.

            I was too sated to clean us up. Instead I lay where I was, not even bothering to pull out. I wrapped my arms around him and held his body closed to mine as I drifted off to sleep.

            I stirred in the morning when I felt movement, but he was quiet as he got up. I heard him using the loo and thought he’d come back to bed. I fell back asleep waiting for him and didn’t notice when he didn’t return.

            When I awoke fully a few hours later it seemed like it was all a very good dream, but I was sure it was real. I thought for certain last night would change things between us for the better, but when I went down to breakfast, he acted like nothing had happened. After breakfast, Sotty took the twins to their room and I followed Draco into his drawing room.

            “Draco, can we talk?” I asked.

            “No,” he answered, ignoring me while sorting his books.

            “I’m serious. I’d like you to be my boyfriend. We would be good together. I like your kids, so that’s not a problem for me,” I said. At this point I still didn’t know who the other parent of the baby was, but as long as he or she wasn’t around, it didn’t really matter to me. At this point, I still had no idea how male pregnancy worked and thought a woman must be involved. Perhaps he’d gotten an egg donor, like the muggles do, and somehow impregnated himself.

            “I don’t know what’s gotten into you, but there’s nothing between us. Now go away and never bring this up again.”

            “But last night-” I protested.

            “Never happened,” he finished, ending it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A lot happened in this one. And the baby will be born in the next one and all of the puzzle pieces will come together. 
> 
> Please Review! Your feedback is crucial to the writing process.


	15. Chapter15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’d like to thank Kiki for reviewing the last chapter! Thank you so much for the feedback!

             In the days that followed, I made a real effort to learn the Caesarean spell, but I had nothing to practice on. I did the reading, made the wand movements, and wrote back and forth with Hermione. The more I knew, the less I wanted to do it myself. There were serious complications, such as death of both Draco and the baby, to worry about. If I could get someone who actually knew what they were doing in here to do it for me, then that was something I definitely thought we should do.

            It just so happened that Mrs. MacBhàtair, who lived with her family not far to the north, was a certified midwife. She’d delivered dozens of babies on the island, through apparition, vaginally, and even two magical Caesareans. I’d asked the Aurors to look into who left on the island had experience as a midwife; they used their Protean charmed parchments to poll the remaining civilians and returned Mrs. MacBhàtair as the best choice.

            When I read the note informing me of Mrs. MacBhàtair’s experience, I was so ecstatic that I almost literally jumped for joy. I didn’t though. Instead I ran straight to the drawing room, where Draco was listening to music and looking through an astronomy book.

            “Draco!” I exclaimed upon entering the room. “You’ll never guess what good news I have!”

            “You’ve discovered you are dying and have only seconds left to live,” Draco quipped.

            “No…that wouldn’t be good news. I’ve found a midwife on the island not far from here. I can go and be back with her in a day or two.”

            “How is that _good news_ , Potter? What part of no one can know excludes midwives?”

            “No, Draco, you can’t mean that,” I protested.

            “I can and I do. Tell no one about this or I’ll sue.”

            “No, but Draco, she _knows_ how to do this. I don’t. What if I botch it? What if you’re left with a horrible scar, or, um,” I paused here to gulp, “you might die.”

            “What sort of horrible scar?” Draco asked, as if this was the worse possibility.

            It took a bit of convincing, but eventually Draco conceded that the prospect of having me, an untrained unqualified git, as he put it, perform his operation was much less appealing than the thought of letting one midwife in on his secret. He still wasn’t keen on being found out and after a bit of prodding I was fairly certain it was because he was embarrassed about his situation. It wasn’t common knowledge, even among the Dragon Spiritualists, that male pregnancies were possible with dragon magic; that knowledge was only revealed to those who took the time to study the ancient texts. But I promised to swear MacBhàtair to secrecy and he caved.

            Mrs. MacBhàtair hadn’t been out of her cave since the terrorists took over last year. She was the type of hearty woman who reminded me of Mrs. Weasley, so I wasn’t too worried about her making the trip. I did, however, fly up to meet her in the MacBhàtair Cave. I passed over my spare invisibility cloak and escorted her back to Malfoy Cave, playing it conservative when it came to passing the dragons along the way, since I didn’t know how good of a flyer she was. I cast a tracking charm on her, so I knew where she was, but she hadn’t placed one on me, so she wouldn’t just be able to follow me through complex evasive maneuvers.

            When we made it safely back to the porch of Malfoy Cave, I bound her with a non-disclosure curse, making her swear under wand-point that she would not divulge what she was about to learn.

            “There, I’m bound to secrecy, now will you please tell me who is having a baby and why it is so important that I don’t tell?” Mrs. MacBhàtair asked.

            “It’s Draco Malfoy,” I answered, wanting to get the shock over with before she met Draco for the first time, so that he didn’t get a negative impression of her.

            “Yes, he’s the father; I surmised as much, but who’s the mother?”

            “Draco is the mother. He’s pregnant. Apparently the dragon spirit is capable of more miracles than we knew.” Mrs. MacBhàtair grew flushed and she began waving her hands about her face, fanning herself. “Are you alright?” I asked.

            “I need a moment and maybe a cooling charm,” she replied.

            She cast her own cooling charm and I conjured a chair for her. After a few minutes, she composed herself enough to say, “This is a great miracle. Our sacred books talk of male pregnancies, but only the most spiritually pure are granted such a blessing. Never in my life have I met such a wizard or heard of such an event happening on the island. Who, if I might ask, is the father?”

            “Er, I hadn’t thought of that,” I admitted. Somehow my brain hadn’t allowed itself to ponder such a question. “I don’t know.” I probably should’ve been able to figure it out, especially after those hints Lifton had given me, but my mind was a confused jumble when I considered it and it felt like my brain hit a brick wall when I tried to puzzle it out. There was a feeling that I knew the answer, but it was nothing solid and it hurt my head to try to grasp it. Sometimes there are things one simply cannot handle and in those times, our minds try to protect us by shielding us from the radical ideas. “Come on, let’s deliver this baby and worry about that later.”

            Mrs. MacBhàtair agreed and I knocked on the door. I was somewhat surprised with the speed we were let in, Lifton coming up to meet us instead of us being ignored out on the porch for days as was per Draco’s usual.

            “Bonnie told Lifton to tell you Madam how _grateful_ we elves is for you coming and helping Master Draco,” Lifton said, leading us through the tunnel.

            There was a bit more groveling on Lifton’s part and repeated apologies when the thick woman was forced to crawl through the narrow passageway. But it was the only way in, she was a deeply religious woman, and her god had worked a miracle just on the other side. She had lived on this island all her life, always in and out of caves similar to this one. Of course this cave was larger, longer, and deeper than average, with the initial passage with a lower ceiling and narrower to boot. Still her religious fervor was enough to see her through.

            Lifton led us to one of the unused guest rooms, where the elves had set up for the birth.

            Draco came waddling in with a baby blanket, hat, booties, nappy, and onesie all in white. He leveled a stare appraisingly at Mrs. MacBhàtair, before setting the baby clothes down on the chest of drawers. “These are the clothes I want the baby put in after it’s cleaned up. I trust you know what you are doing, Madam.”

            “Oh please call me Rhona, dear,” Mrs. MacBhàtair said.

            “Alright and you may call me Lord Malfoy,” Draco replied with far more arrogance than the situation warranted.

            Draco proceeded to drill poor Mrs. MacBhàtair about everything there could possibly be to birthing a child, from how many magical Caesarean sections she’d preformed and the details of each, to how to properly hold and handle a newborn, to cutting the cord. “And don’t let Potter do anything muggle to the baby,” he concluded.

            “Muggle?” I asked.

            “Yes, no sprinkling water on the head or drowning it to prove holiness; the Dragon Spirits do not require such sacrifices,” he replied.

            “Drowning?” I asked in exasperation.

            “That’s what you muggles do to babies, isn’t it?” Draco’s expression was serious.

            “No…is that really what purebloods think?” I asked curiously.

            He nodded and I let it go. He did spend a year at Hogwarts under the tutelage of the Carrow siblings and countless years being raised by racist parents. Now was not the time for a lecture in muggle studies.

            “Begging your pardon Lord Malfoy, but might I ask about your first two children? Were they also the result of a male pregnancy?” Mrs. MacBhàtair asked.

            Draco gave a curt nod.

            “Oh my,” Mrs. MacBhàtair replied, fanning herself again. “The dragon spirit really has favored you.”

            “Is there a point to your blathering woman?” Draco asked pointedly.

            “Yes, sorry, er… It’s just that if you’ve been through it before, it’ll make this easier. It won’t be the same without apparition, but it’s not all that different.”

            “Alright, let’s get on with it then,” Draco replied.

            “I just have a few more standard questions before we begin, if I may,” she replied.

            “Go ahead,” Draco said.

            “Who, if I might ask, is the father?” Mrs. MacBhàtair asked.

            “I am,” he answered.

            “But you are the carrier dear. What I want to know is who the other parent is,” she clarified.

            “It’s just me. With the twins, the dragon spirit kissed me by myself. I am the only parent.”

            Despite the absurdness of this claim, I knew instantly it was true. It clicked in my brain and fit in a way none of Draco’s lies had. I hadn’t figured it out, because I was on the completely wrong track. I didn’t know about male pregnancy, but now that it was before my eyes, I knew it was true and if that could be true, so could this. The reason the twins looked exactly like him was that they were made of him and only of him. To use a muggle word, they were his clones. He was their father, but he was also their brother; his parents were their biological parents.

            This knowledge also explained what Draco was doing out in the caves alone: he was waiting for the dragon spirits to kiss him alone again, to make another set of clones. He wanted children and a family and for whatever reason he felt that cloning himself was the only way to get it. I was the wrench in his plans. My presence wasn’t planned for and had great consequences for him.

            What those consequences were, I was too busy to figure out. It was related to that bit of knowledge that kept giving me headaches whenever I tried to grasp it. I didn’t have time for a headache or to sit down and figure out what the obvious flaw was in his statement; there was a glaring omission, as an Auror, I was certain of it. This was what the Auror Manual terms a smoke screen, where a person reveals part of the truth to distract from something else. But I couldn’t worry about that, because I had to concentrate on getting that baby born safely. I could worry about the rest later.

            “Oh my, I think I need to sit down for a moment,” she replied fanning her face and sounding overwhelmed. “I didn’t know the dragons spirits were so powerful. Not even in the most advance texts I have read does it mention such a thing. I must ask my mother-in-law about it when I return home. Might you teach me what you do to summon them so strongly?”

            “I do nothing. They inhabit this cave on their own. I simply let them be.”

            “It’s all of the nests in the area then; it makes the spirits strong.”

            “Yes, that’s part of it. Also I think there may be something my ancestors did to make this valley particularly suitable to them. Maybe it was just protecting the area and keeping muggles away, but there used to be dragons all up and down these islands, while now they are confined to this one.”

            There was a bit more blathering on between the two of them about dragon spirits, dragon nests, and the miracle of being kissed alone, before Mrs. MacBhàtair said, “Right, well I only asked because I need to know who I may leave the baby with if something happens to you. I ask the dragons nothing does, but these things don’t always go as planned and it’s best to be prepared. May I leave your children in the care of Auror Potter?”

            “Certainly not! Ruin perfectly good children by leaving them with that wanker, that would. No, my grandmother Iona Malfoy is the only one the care of my children can be entrusted to. My father would of course be fine, but he’s not in a position right now to look after children, so it’ll have to be my grandmother. My friends, but not Potter, will help her out if it comes to that,” he said.

            I was rather insulted that I was considered so unfit to look after children, when I’d been helping care for the twins and I had Teddy, while Lucius Malfoy, who was in Azkaban, was considered fit. I almost said something, but at the last minute decided to keep quiet. I’d already gotten my way on a lot of things in Draco’s life and who he wanted to leave his children to in the event of his death wasn’t really my concern. As long as Lucius was safely tucked away in Azkaban, it didn’t matter how much Draco wanted his father to have the children.

            “Iona Malfoy, very good. And do you have a name in mind?” she asked.

            “Narcissa Maia Malfoy, after my mother, if it’s a girl and Ettrick Galileo Malfoy if it’s a boy. I’m fairly certain it’s not twins this time; I did the spell about a dozen times and it kept saying there was only the one fetus.”

            “How lovely,” she said with a maternal smile. “What will you be feeding the baby?”

            “Goat milk; it’s all we have,” he answered.

            “Very well. Now are you certain it’s time to deliver? I know you don’t want to wait until you go into labor under these circumstances, but are you sure it’s time? When did you conceive?” she asked.

            “It’s time. It’s been almost nine months.”

            “Alright dear, let’s get started,” she said, before helping him remove his robes and lie down on the bed.

            I stepped back and watched somewhat horrified by the process. I’d seen it on paper, but actually having the spell performed in front of me was so much worse. I almost fainted when I saw the gaping round hole that was created in his abdomen, showing right through to his internal organs. Then the uterus was cut open with another spell and clear fluid gushed out.

            Rhona MacBhàtair reached in with two hands and pulled a squiggling mass of white limbs out. “It’s a girl!” she announced. She cradled the bundle in one arm and suctioned out the mouth and nose with her wand.

            While she worked, the baby started screaming, and Draco let out a sigh of relief. “Cissa, finally,” he whispered.

            Mrs. MacBhàtair cut the cord with a spell, before taking the baby over to a cart set up with a towel to clean the baby. She left Draco with his internal organs on display, so I had to speak up. “Um, shouldn’t you close him back up?” I asked.

            “Just a moment dear, I’ll get right to it,” she replied, grabbing a white blanket and wrapping the now dry bundle up.

            She took the baby back over to the bed. “Here you go, one perfect little princess,” she said, handing the baby to Draco.

            I didn’t think he could hold a baby in his state, but he could and he did. He cradled the baby high up on his chest and looked her over, while Mrs. MacBhàtair worked down below. The midwife reached inside the magically created hole and pulled out a bloody mass of what looked like some pink internal organ. She reached back in with her other hand and pulled out the cord, depositing the mass on the cart. Then she closed the openings and cleaned up the outside.

            I was focused on what Mrs. MacBhàtair was doing, but when I looked back up at Draco, he looked angry. There was none of the maternal love for a newborn I’d expected, but instead he alternated between glaring at me and glaring at the midwife.

            “Um, Draco, is something wrong?” I asked.

            “Yes, there bloody well is something wrong Potter! Your midwife left blood all over my baby’s hair!” Draco complained, showing me a tiny head covered in strawberry blond hair.

            “That’s not blood. I removed her before the bleeding started. She’s been kissed by the dragon’s breath, that one,” Mrs. MacBhàtair replied.

            “You!” Draco yelled, glaring at me accusingly. “You did this!”

            “Me?” I asked confused.

            “Yes you. The elves were right; you’re as daft as a microcephalic giant. You wouldn’t know a dragon’s kiss if it bit you on the bum in the process.”

            “But your elves…Lifton said you’d been kissed _again_ ,” I protested. “Two men can’t make a baby.”

            “Kissed again with you, you sodding arse! You sat there begging to hold my hand during the morning sickness, but then you still don’t see what’s right in front of your eyes. Just my luck and you’ll have given your dim wits to the baby too.”

            “But you said you were the only parent.” Realization was dawning on me, but my mind protested, grasping at straws I knew to be false. This was what I hadn’t been able to admit to myself. This was the thing I knew, but couldn’t know without setting off a major headache. My head hurt now, but this time I was forced to deal with it.

            “Of the twins, not…” He gestured to the baby in his arms. “What did you do? Were you impotent, so you borrowed some of Weasley’s jizz to knock me up with? It’s not bad enough you had to violate me and impregnate me, you didn’t even have the decency to use your own seed!” he accused.

            “No…er…w-wh…ah…am…uh…er…I, the, er dad?” I asked inarticulately, the news starting to sink in.

            “Apparently not. Looks like you’ve somehow manage to make Weasley the dad.” His tone was scathing.

            “No, we, I didn’t. She’s really mine then?” At this point, I had eyes only for the baby. He didn’t say anything and I didn’t bother trying to decipher his answer from his glares. Instead I reached out towards the perfect little face, gently running my finger along the soft cheek. She was perfect and so incredibly tiny. “Can I hold her?”

            “You can have her. I don’t want it,” Draco said, handing the baby over. His voice was rough, but his actions were gentle.

            I took the baby, cradling her against my chest and Draco stood up on wobbly legs.

            “Take it easy Lord Malfoy, you just had a baby,” Mrs. MacBhàtair said, taking his arm to steady him. “Where do you want to go?”

            “Away from them,” he answered.

            I ignored him, entranced by the sight of my daughter in my arms. “My mother had red hair,” I said softly, trying to discern whether or not she looked like me. Her chin was pointy and her cheeks sharp. It was hard to tell with the nose, but the brow and lips looked to be from Draco’s side of the family.

            “Your bloody _mudblood_ mother! You gave my daughter your filthy mudblood mother’s horrible _red_ hair!?! I’m going to kill you!” Draco screamed, turning back towards me and away from the door. “Where’s my wand?”

            “Just calm down a minute, now, will you,” Mrs. MacBhàtair tried to intervene.

            “What did you just say?” I asked, disbelievingly. Had he really just called the grandmother of his child a filthy mudblood? I should’ve known he hadn’t changed. After all of these years of keeping his pureblood racism to himself I had actually begun to forget about it. In my optimism, I’d wrongly assumed he no longer hated muggleborns.

            “I said that your filthy blood tainted the baby! Look at her! _Red hair_! How could you!?! I asked the dragon spirits for a child who looks like _my_ mother, not _yours_! I was going to name her Cissa, after _my_ mother. If my mother could see us now…” he ranted.

            “She’d slap you and tell you what an idiot you are,” I finished for him. “First of all, her hair isn’t red red, it’s strawberry blond. Second of all, I would prefer for you not to talk that way in front on my daughter or about my daughter and my mother. And thirdly, she does look like your precious mother! If you could just look past the hair you’d see that.”

            He laughed cruelly. “Keep it out of my sight and I’ll try not to hex you while holding her,” he said, turning to leave.

            He walked out the door and kept on going. I, meanwhile, sat down on the bed with the baby. “Cissa, is it? You’re quite lovely, even if your father is too stupid to see it. What are we going to do now?” I asked the baby.

            “Well you can dress her for a start, her things are over here,” Mrs. MacBhàtair said, picking up the pile of white newborn clothes Draco had left.

            The kind midwife dressed Cissa for me, showing me how to gently unfold the curled up limbs and saying reassuring things like, “Don’t worry, he’ll come around,” “Just give him time,” and, “Your hormones go haywire after having a baby. I’m sure he’ll wake up in a few days and be appalled by what he said.”

            “And if he doesn’t?” I asked with a gulp at the end.

            “Then you will do a fine job raising your daughter on your own. That is, if you want her. If not, I’ll have to track down that Iona Malfoy he mentioned. It’ll be quite difficult with a newborn in tow and a war on.”

            “I want her. I didn’t know how much I wanted her, but I do so very much,” I answered, hugging the baby to my chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So all of the secrets have been revealed! For those of you who were in suspense over the parentage of the twins, the answer was actually in the warnings at the beginning of the first chapter. 
> 
> As for Draco’s horrible reaction, the midwife was correct in saying he will be appalled with himself when his hormones settle down. He is never going to love the red hair, but he will love his Cissa despite it. 
> 
> Now that the baby has been born, they will be leaving the island. This part of the story is ending and the next stage in their journey is about to begin.
> 
> Please review and let me know what you think!
> 
> In other news, I have a new story posted called Pulled in Two: Ginny versus Draco and Leo. It is a story about a childish Ginny and a snarky Draco fighting over Harry, Ginny being the girlfriend and Draco being the baby daddy. In it Draco has given birth to Harry’s child and he’s good with Teddy too, which does not please Ginny at all.


	16. Chapter16

            When Draco failed to show up to dinner that night, sending the twins along with the elf, I left the baby with Mrs. Rhona MacBhàtair and went to check on him. I found him moping in his bed. He wiped at his face when I entered, turning an angry scowl on me; he looked like he’d been crying. My heart melted a bit at the sight, my anger with his earlier harsh words slipping. He had been through quite the ordeal this morning and perhaps he was regretting it now. I could cut him some slack.

            I walked into the room and sat on the edge of his bed, looking away from him so that we could both pretend I didn’t know he’d been crying. “It’s dinner time. Why don’t you join us?” I asked softly, hoping we could put the morning behind us and pretend like it never happened.

            “No, I’m not hungry. Sotty will see to it that the boys are fed,” Draco replied, his arms folded defensively across his chest.

            “Draco…”

            “ _What Potter_?” Draco’s tone was biting and terse.

            “Don’t do this. Please? Just come to dinner. Rhona’s watching the baby.”

            “No. Why won’t you just leave me alone? You ruin _everything Potter!_ Everything I have ever planned or worked for, you have ruined or taken away from me. And all I was planning this time was to have a daughter. All I wanted was a blond haired, blue eyed, Cissa. What was so wrong with that?” Draco asked, sounding heart broken, as if I’d killed the baby instead of giving her red hair.

            “I’m sorry,” I said softly, the only thing I could think to say.

            “ _You are sorry you great tit_? You take my daughter for your own and you are _sorry_?”

            “It doesn’t have to be like that. We can share her.”

            “Get out! Get the _fuck_ out of here right now you bloody wanker!” he screamed at me and pushed me off of his bed. He made a grunting sound, as if he’d made a great exertion and perhaps it was for him after having just given birth, but it wouldn’t have moved me if I hadn’t moved myself.

            I rose to my feet, taking one last look at the broken man now kneeling on the bed behind where I’d just been sitting. “Fine.” I turned and left the room.

            I knew he was hurting, but I didn’t know how to make him see that his actions were only making it worse. If he was hurting that badly, then he had to love her. If he loved her, then there was hope he could learn to look past her hair. And if he could do that, then he could still have our daughter. There was hope and I grabbed onto it, thinking three words to myself over and over again, _He loves her_.

            I sighed, not knowing what to do, other than to go to the dining room for dinner. I could only hope Mrs. MacBhàtair was right and that time would help.

 

* * *

 

 

            In the days that followed, Mrs. MacBhàtair stayed with me to help me get used to caring for a newborn; I sent my patronus to her family, promising to escort the witch back soon, so that they wouldn’t worry. Draco said our presence in the room next to his was bothering him, so he instructed the elves to move Cissa’s nursery to the room right next to mine. Rhona was given the room on the other side of Cissa’s and we got by.

            On the plus side, Lucius and Narcissa’s portraits both liked the baby, despite the red hair. Broderick and Roadrick, however, were confused. They thought they were getting a new baby brother or sister, but now their father wanted nothing to do with the baby. When the twins asked why the baby wasn’t theirs, Draco actually answered, “Because she’s Harry’s baby, not ours. She came out a _Potter_ and we’re Malfoys.”

            Well if Draco was willing to let the baby have my last name I wasn’t about to argue with that. Though, I didn’t think it was right for the twins not to be Cissa’s big brothers. Rhona kept telling me to give Draco time and saying that it was just the hormones, but he was confusing his sons. The twins were only three and if Draco didn’t come around in a few months, I was going to step in. But first I had more pressing matters to deal with.

            I waited until all of the children were in bed asleep two days later before speaking to Draco again. I found him in his drawing room, reading his sacred book. Mrs. MacBhàtair had previously identified that book as one of the books reserved for the highest level Dragon Mystics, the holiest of the holy, well beyond her level and up there at her mother-in-law’s level. It now seemed clear that her mother-in-law, Old Lady MacBhàtair, had lied to me and purposefully kept the truth of Draco’s first pregnancy from me. Mrs. MacBhàtair said not to take that personally, because no Dragon Mystic who didn’t know I’d already been kissed would deem me worthy of knowing their secrets.

            “Draco, we need to talk,” I said.

            “Go ahead,” he replied.

            “The goat milk upsets the baby’s stomach and I want to get some proper milk for her. You’ve given birth, so there is no longer a reason you need to stay here. It’s not safe for the children and I want all of you to come with me on the next portkey. I’ll drop Mrs. MacBhàtair off at her cave first, but then we need to go. You don’t have to stay in the shelter with the rest of the refugees; you can go back to Malfoy Manor and I won’t try to follow you. I’ll take Cissa with me to Grimmauld Place.”

            “I’m not done here.”

            “What else do you have to do?”

            “If you must know, I was hoping that the dragon spirits would see fit to reincarnate my mother into the body of my daughter. It’s failed so far, but I’ve only tried twice. The first time had to produce boys, to be the Malfoy heirs; I see that now. I really think it would’ve worked this time if you hadn’t interfered and stolen my child from me.”

            “I didn’t steal her from you!”

            “No, you just contaminated her with Potter and expected me to be okay with that.”

            “You were before you found out about the red hair!”

            “Well I didn’t know it didn’t work until then.”

            “Fine, whatever, I don’t care. I’ll take the baby and won’t ask anything from you, other than that you and the boys return to the mainland. Or anywhere, really, as long as it’s off of this island.”

            “No, I want to give it one more go, this time without your interference.”

            “What even makes you think it’s possible for the dragon spirits to turn your baby into your mother?” I asked perplexed.

            “This holy book says it’s possible. It’s the most advanced tome, available only to those who have made their life the study of Dragon Spiritualism.”

            “And how do you know it’s not all codswallop?”

            “Because it said male pregnancy was possible and here I sit having lived it twice. And it said parthenogenesis was possible and that proved true as well.”

            “Partheno-what? I don’t even know what that is,” I admitted.

            He rolled his eyes at me. “Parthenogenesis is the process in which offspring are created without sex. Broderick and Roadrick really do only have the one parent.”

            “How is that possible?” I knew it was, because it had happened, I just didn’t know how.

            “The dragon spirits can do wondrous things.”

            He never gave me more of an explanation than that, despite several additional questions prodding him for a more logical answer. Eventually I decided I’d have to ask Hermione.

            “Right, well back to what I said before; Cissa and I are going back to the mainland and you’re going with me,” I insisted.

            “No.”

            “Then you’ll have to start helping me with Cissa. I can’t do it all on my own and there’s no one here to help me. If I can go home, I’ll have my friends to help and I’ll be able to buy milk that won’t give her gas.”

            “Get the elves to help.”

            “You know what?” I asked, my patience snapping and my anger flaring. “I can’t go without you, because someone has to look out for your boys! I won’t stay here with the baby, so you’re going with me. Now you can go willingly, or I can stun you and drag your skinny arse with me. I think Brodie and Roadie would prefer not to have to see you like that, but if they must, I won’t hesitate to do so. You can return here to have another baby with yourself _after_ the terrorists are subdued.”

            “Broderick and Roadrick, not Brodie and Roadie,” he replied.

            “Out of all of that, it’s the nicknames you have a problem with?”

            “Mainly, yes.”

            “Then you’ll go with me?”

            “That depends.”

            “On what?”

            “On when your Ministry plans on giving me my home back.”

            “Soon, it won’t be long now.”

            “That’s all you had to say.”

            “So you’ll go?” I asked in disbelief. After all of this hassle, it was unbelievable that he’d finally caved.

            “On one condition.”

            “Name it.”

            “Take the baby to see my father once per week.”

            “What? Why? You said yourself you don’t want her.”

            “I don’t, but my father does. I’ve had word that he wants to see her.”

            “How have you possibly had word? You don’t have an owl or a window for a bird to get in.” The locals used native sea birds and it was possible he’d sent one of his elves out with a letter for the birds, but I doubted it.

            “My father’s portrait told me. He has another portrait at my grandmother’s and she has been to see my father. You can have the baby and name her Potter if you like, but let my father be her grandfather.”  
            “But he’s in Azkaban.”

            “That’s my condition. Take it or leave it.”

            “Fine, I’ll take it. We’re leaving in three days and I need you to watch the baby for a day while I escort Rhona home.”

            I thought he’d protest, but he gave me an airy wave of agreement instead. He ordered the house elves to start packing and that settled it.

            I left the next day to escort the midwife home and turned right back around without resting to get back to my baby as soon as possible. Even then, it took me thirty-two hours. I was absolutely exhausted when I returned and was greeted by Cissa’s cries, because Draco had left her with Sotty the house elf. I took my baby from the elf, cradling her to my chest and bouncing her up and down. She calmed down quickly now that she had an actual human to hold her.

            “Sotty, how long have you been watching the baby alone?” I asked.

            “Bonnie was just in here helping Sotty,” she replied.

            “I mean without Draco.”

            “Oh, since you left, sir.”

            That answer sent my temper through the roof. I tucked Cissa into my arms and took off to find Draco. I found him in the twins’ room playing with a pretend potion making kit.

            “Malfoy, we need to talk,” I bit out between my teeth.

            “Can it wait? I’m playing with my children,” he replied.

            “No.”

            “Father, are ya in twouble?” Roadie asked.

            “No, play nicely and Father will be back.” He gave each twin a pat on the head, before heading out the door and signaling for me to follow him.

            We went into his drawing room. He settled himself down on the sofa and I stayed standing with Cissy in my arms, glaring at him.

            “Well?” he asked. “What do you want?”

            “I want to know why my daughter has been left with house elves for the past day and a half? You agreed to watch her!” Cissa flinched and fussed at my volume, so I bounced and patted her, trying to control my temper.

            “I did see to her; I had Bonnie or Sotty with her at all times.”

            “They’re not human. They can’t take care of a baby. Would you have left Brodie and Roadie with them for that long?”

            “I had to, when I was too sick to care for them during the pregnancy.”

            “Bullshite, I stayed with you and watched your boys during the worst of it.”

            “I was counting you as an elf.”

            “You bloody wanker! Don’t you ever leave this baby alone without human supervision for more than four hours at a time!” I yelled, completely losing my tempter. That of course started Cissa off crying again, leading to more comforting, soothing, and bouncing on my part.

            Four hours was the maximum amount of time the Auror Manual said elves could legally be left to babysit children. If left longer than that, we were to call the Child Protection Agency in.

            “This will be the last time you leave her with me, so that won’t be a problem. Now stop yelling and go calm her down,” he replied, getting up and walking out of the room.

            “Hush, Daddy’s sorry Princess. Daddy just gets so mad because your father is a stupid git. We’ll go back to our rooms now and not have to see him again today,” I said soothingly, once more bouncing her up and down.

            “May we have a look at her? This may be our last time,” the portrait of Narcissa Malfoy called, Lucius Malfoy’s portrait crammed into her frame and looking over her shoulder, since she had the better view of the baby. Like I said, the portraits had a thing for the baby, even if Draco didn’t.

            I complied, stepping closer and turning so that they could see her face.

            “I tried to tell him that she’s a Malfoy, but he couldn’t get past that hair,” Narcissa told me.

            “And I tried to tell him he was behaving most unbecomingly, but he wouldn’t hear it. Perhaps you could put a hat on her until he can see what the rest of us can already?” Lucius asked. “Our granddaughter has, after all, been kissed by the dragon.”

            “I won’t cover up my daughter’s red hair to soothe his bloody ego,” I replied.

            “No, that’s not what we’re saying dear. We don’t want to hide her hair, we just want to give Draco a chance,” Narcissa said.

            “Our son is blinded by his hatred of red hair. If he were to look past that, then he would see that his wish _was_ granted and that Baby Cissa is the spitting image of my lovely wife. Once he falls in love with her, he won’t be able to see the red hair,” Lucius said.

            “And then you won’t have to bother with the hat, but until then, it’s only a hat and you don’t want her precious ears getting cold,” Narcissa added.

            I felt Cissa’s ears, which were on the chilly side. “Her ears are a bit cold,” I admitted.

            “Good, then that’s settled,” Narcissa replied.

            “And we thank you so much for what you are doing for our family Auror Potter. Draco just needs a bit of time and help seeing what is right there in front of his eyes. He’ll come around soon, you will see,” Lucius added.

            I never thought I would find the words out of Lucius Malfoy’s mouth comforting, but I did. I was fairly certain this portrait was a highly corrupted version of the original personality, but if there was a chance the man was half so decent in real life, I wouldn’t mind Cissa getting to know him. I would have to arrange to visit with him in the Ministry for Magic as opposed to the typical Azkaban, but if I couldn’t use the perks of my unwanted fame for letting my daughter get to know her grandfather and thereby ensuring that her father and brothers were safe, then what could I use it for?

            I thanked the portraits and Narcissa added one last request, “Do stop by the Manor, dear. My mother-in-law has already purchased a wardrobe for my granddaughter.”

            I agreed and took Cissa back to my room. She’d soiled her nappy, so I changed it and offered her a bottle, before changing her clothes and taking her to bed with me. I was so tired that I couldn’t bear being up any longer, but I also didn’t want to leave her without human contact, after so long with the elves. I fell asleep with my baby on my chest, arms wrapped around the precious bundle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What do you think of Draco’s plan to reincarnate his mother? I did include a warning about religious cults for a reason. As you can see, some of Draco’s thought processes are clearly corrupted by his religious beliefs, which is why his instincts are to stay on the island, despite the danger. But behind every religion, there is some truth. Parthenogenesis and male pregnancy have already been proved true; should reincarnation be true as well? Or should there be some lesser degree of similarity between Narcissa and baby Cissa? Or no similarity at all?
> 
> BTW, now that Draco has given the baby to Harry, the name will be Harry’s choice. I want to leave the first name Narcissa, but do you think the middle name, Maia, should be changed? Harry would prefer Lily, but if they use Lily now, then it can’t be used for a second daughter…
> 
> Please review! Your feedback is crucial to the writing process!


	17. Chapter17

            I felt immense relief when the portkey finally activated. It was an old bent up watering can, which I grabbed the handle of with one hand, while holding my daughter with the other. Draco somehow managed to get both Broderick and Roadrick in his arms, one boy balanced on each hip with their arms around his neck, and grip the watering can with his interlocked hands. The four Malfoy house elves each had one hand on the can, the other on something else. The male elves had our luggage; I had my knapsack on my back, but Draco had packed up most of the children’s rooms, including Cissa’s, as well as his personal things. It all fit into two large trunks, each with an undetectable extension charm, making them even larger on the inside. The female elves were positioned on either side of Draco, each with a hand on a twin, making sure the three-year-olds didn’t fall.

            And then we were pulled up through the roof of Malfoy Cave into the sky, only to be plopped down on the mainland near the refugee camp. Aurors were surrounding us, wands drawn, to ensure that the portkey hadn’t been hijacked by a terrorist. Once they recognized me, they lowered their wands. Most of the Aurors left in the direction of the refugee camp, while Ron stepped forward to greet me and one of the pureblood Aurors, Selwyn, stepped forward to help Draco.

            “Harry! Finally! Have you any idea how long you’ve been gone? Mum was worried sick about you. I had to promise her that I’d bring you and the baby ‘round straight away,” Ron said, giving me a thump on the back.

            “I can’t wait to see everyone too. Where’s the floo? We need to get settled first,” I replied.

            The elves apparated with the luggage from there, presumably straight to Malfoy Manor. Ron and Selwyn led us humans over towards the refugee camp, where there was a fireplace set up.

            “Right, so we’ll all go to Malfoy Manor first and help you set things up Draco,” I suggested.

            “No, I can manage on my own. My grandmother will be there to meet me,” Draco replied, Roadrick on his hip and Broderick’s hand in his. “There’s no need for you to come; I’ll have the elves send you the baby’s things.”

            Draco went through first with his crying twins, shouting out, “Malfoy Manor!” and disappearing up the flue along with the screams of two very scared first time flooers. I went through second with Cissa to Grimmauld Place, Ron following shortly behind.

            Hermione was there to greet us with a big hug for me and a kiss on the cheek for Cissa.       “Don’t stay away so long again,” Hermione admonished. “We missed you terribly.”

            “I had to Hermione,” I replied.

            “Can I see her then?” she asked.

            I handed my daughter to Hermione and my best friend proceeded to coo adoringly over the baby, Ron looking over her shoulder apprehensively.

            I started off with Kreacher, ordering the elf to go to the store to buy fresh food for me and proper baby’s milk for Cissa. Then I went to work unpacking my knapsack, sorting things into personal items to stay here and work related things, to take back to my office. Before I’d even finished with that, Lifton appeared with one of Draco’s trunks.

            “These are Mistress Cissa’s things. Master Draco said that Harry Sodding Potter may keep the furniture until Mistress Cissa is done with it, but then he wants it back,” Lifton said.

            I accepted the terms, grateful that Draco was letting me use his things. For someone who’d washed his hands of the baby, he sure was doing a lot of the providing for her. Neither of us had been able to go shopping, but he’d scrounged up everything she’d need from the twins’ old things. Of course when he did it he hadn’t known she had red hair, but it still seemed rather decent of him to let me keep using the things now. Not having to buy a crib, changing table, rocking chair, bassinet, swing, bouncer, bathtub, bottles, and clothes would certainly save me a ton of money. All I had to add was a chest of drawers from Grimmauld Place and the nursery was set. My major cost would be proper baby’s milk, which was expensive, but worth it.

            Ron and I helped Lifton empty the trunk into my spare room on the third upper floor. Hermione and Ron had the second upper floor and I had the third, which meant I had my own bedroom, bathroom, drawing room, and what was supposed to be an office, but had really been more of a storage room for junk, and was now a nursery. Lifton was off again, taking the empty trunk with him, while Ron and I worked on clearing out my junk to the attic. Kreacher returned with real human grade milk for babies and jumped right in helping to set up the room. We spent the rest of the day putting together the nursery, with Hermione caring for my newborn daughter. The room was ready for the most part by supper time.

            Kreacher was disappointed that we weren’t staying to have his cooking, but he hadn’t had time to make anything tonight and I promised him I’d eat his cooking tomorrow. Then Hermione, Ron, and I flooed with Cissa over to the Burrow, where Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were there to greet us. At the sound of the floo, Ginny ran in from the kitchen.

            “George, Angelina! They’re here,” Molly shouted up the stairs as I stepped through the floo.

            George rushed down the stairs and Angelina followed more slowly after. I introduced my daughter and was enveloped in numerous hugs and kisses and inundated with well-wishes.

            “We all missed you very much Harry and we’re glad you’re home,” Arthur said.

            “Thank you. I missed you all too,” I replied.

            “I trust you won’t have to return to the war-zone anytime soon,” Molly stated.

            “No Molly, I won’t. I’ve gotten leave to take care of my daughter,” I said. I’d just gotten the approval, having sent word to my bosses apprising them of the situation before leaving the island, since I hadn’t known beforehand. The Aurors were sore to loose me, but six months to a year leave was standard for a new baby. Since I was a single parent, I’d probably take off the full year. My boss had warned me that I might be called in when they are ready to move on the island, but that was just because of my tactical knowledge of the island and the terrorists. I wouldn’t be on the front line and I wouldn’t have to be there any longer than absolutely necessary.

            “And what a precious little darling she is!” Molly replied.

            Ron snickered and Hermione hit him. “Ow! What was that for?” Ron asked.

            “For laughing at Harry’s baby. What’s so amusing anyway? I think she’s gorgeous,” Hermione replied.

            “Well I was just imagining the look on Malfoy’s face when he realized his baby has red hair,” Ron answered with a snicker, to which Hermione hit him again.

            My face fell at the memory.

            “That’s not funny Ronald!” Molly chastised.

            “Yes, it is a very serious matter, but I’m sure Draco will come around soon,” Arthur said cheerfully.

            “I doubt it. Malfoy’s a git. He’s always been a git and he’ll always be a git,” Ginny retorted.

            “I wish no one would say anything bad about him in front of Cissa. He’s her father, even if he doesn’t want to be, and the less she knows about it the better,” I said, even if I had used that very term to describe Draco to the baby before.

            “If you want, Harry, I could play a little prank on Malfoy to get him back,” George offered.

            “No, um, I’d rather not. He has his boys to think about,” I replied.

            “The offer still stands and I promise not to do any permanent harm to him,” George said.

            “Don’t listen to him Harry. Draco will come around, you’ll see. There is no way he could ignore your baby for long. No mother could,” Angelina said, her hands resting on her large belly. She was pregnant with her and George’s first child. They were expecting a boy and planned on naming him Fred.

            While George and Angelina were talking, Bill and Fleur came through the floo with their three children: Victoire, Dominique, and Baby Louis. The baby was in Fleur’s arms, while Bill had little Dominique on his hip and was holding Victoire’s hand. Victoire was a year younger than Teddy, making her five, Dominique was three, and the baby was six months.

            “Oh, ‘oo are alreadee ‘ere “Arry,” Fleur said.

            Dromeda Tonks and my godson Teddy Lupin came through not long after. They were followed by Percy, Percy’s wife Audrey, and their two daughters, Molly and Lucy. Molly was four and Lucy was two. That completed the gathering, because Charlie was off in Romania, too far away to visit.

            Another round of greetings and well-wishes followed in which I introduced the new arrivals to my daughter.

            Teddy’s hair was red today and his eyes green. “Thee’s juth like a Weathley. Thee’ll fit right in!” he exclaimed when I showed him Cissa. He had a lisp, which made all of his S and Z sounds come out like TH. It was worse at the moment, due to a lack of several front teeth, but they were working on it with him at his school.

            “I’m so glad you think so Teddy. I missed you soo much,” I said, giving my godson a hug. Not being able to see him as much as I wanted was one of the worst parts about extended assignments.

            “Are ya thaying thith time Harry?” Teddy asked; eyes wide and hopeful.

            “I sure am. I hope you’ll come visit me all of the time now that I won’t be working,” I replied.

            “Awethome!” Teddy exclaimed, giving me a hug and Cissa a sweet kiss on the forehead.

            “Arthur, can you get the bag now?” Molly asked her husband, before turning to me. “Now Harry, it’s not much, but when you wrote us that you’d had a baby and were coming home, I owled everyone and asked them to bring what they could. Most of it’s used from Bill and Percy’s girls, but Hermione and I went out yesterday and picked up a few things too.”

            “Here you go son,” Arthur said, plopping the bag down in front of me. The bag was large, but there was so much inside it that all of the items had been shrunk to fit.

            The used items included a purple pram and matching infant seat for car rides, a mobile, a number of baby toys, and a pile of gently used clothes. I had plenty of used clothes for her from Draco’s twins, but those clothes were all boy things, while these were little girl things, decorated with girly colors, lace, ribbons, bows, flowers, butterflies, bunnies, and ladybugs. The new items were mostly clothing and linens. There was a frilly dress along with blankets, and burp clothes, washcloths, towels, a nappy bag, baby shampoo, baby lotion, and a little grooming kit.

            “This was so nice of you all to do for me,” I said. “Thank you so much.”

            “You’re welcome dear,” Molly replied and everyone else agreed.

            “Thee thmell bad Harry,” Teddy said, pointing to the baby.

            I checked and sure enough there was a nasty surprise in her nappy. I changed her and then we all sat down for dinner. There were too many of us, so of course the men of the family had set up the two long folding tables outside. I’d really missed Molly’s cooking and it was the best dinner I’d had in a long time. Draco’s elves were good cooks, but there is nothing better than Molly Weasley’s food.

            After dinner I handed Cissa off to the women, who gathered in the living room with the children to coo over the new baby, while I joined Ron and George in the kitchen. The men were on clean up detail. Arthur, Bill, and Percy were outside putting away the tables and chairs, while my group was in the kitchen scrubbing pots and pans and washing up plates and silverware.

            “Now what I don’t understand, Harry, is how it is that you have a baby by Draco Malfoy in the first place,” George said.

            “It’s complicated,” Ron answered for me.  
            “How complicated can it be. You have a baby by him, so you must’ve done the nasty with him,” George insisted.

            “Yes…” I admitted.

            “Well?” George asked expectantly.

            “Well what?” I asked.

            “Details man, I need details,” George prodded.

            “Look mate, you don’t need to answer him. I’m perfectly happy leaving that a black box in my head. Yes, something happened, but what you do between the sheets with another wizard is your own business,” Ron said.

            “Thanks Ron,” I replied.

            “That’s him; I need more details. How did it happen?” George asked.

            “It was strange. Draco and all of the other Dragon Spiritualists will tell you that it was the Dragon Spirit’s doing, but basically it was like the natural dragon magic of the place put us both under Imperius. Only it wasn’t like it made us do something we didn’t want to do; it actually made us want to do it,” I explained. This question was bound to come up a lot now that I’d returned with Draco Malfoy’s baby, so I might as well start by explaining it to my friends.

            “How was it?” George asked.

            “Bloody brilliant,” I replied with a goofy smile on my face. “I think the cave yahoos are just a bunch of sex fiends with a hankering for dragon magic sex, it’s that good.”

            “Perhaps this is a religion Angelina and I should take up,” George replied.

            “It couldn’t have been that great, Harry; it was with Malfoy,” Ron said.

            “Better. It was so great I would’ve proposed marriage to him just to get some more, if he would’ve had me.”

            “You can’t be serious, mate,” Ron replied.

            “I am serious. I tried to ask him to go out with me, so we could do it again, but he shut me down flat.”

            “But if it was that great for him too, surely he’d want to do it again,” George said. “Unless he’s not, you know.”

            “He definitely is, bent that is; I asked. But apparently he’s used to getting that high by himself, so he didn’t need me for it.”

            “What do you mean? He can’t possibly…” Ron trailed off blushing.

            “His twins were conceived without a second person there; they have no other parent.”

            “So it’s like he had sex with this Dragon Spirit?” George asked.

            “Basically, I guess.”

            “I saw those twins: they looked identical to Malfoy. I could believe they’re his clones,” Ron said, drying the last dish.

            Finished in the kitchen, we joined the women and children in the sitting room. The women were passing Louis, Bill and Fleur’s baby, and Cissa around and talking about how cute babies are.

            Hermione was holding Cissa when she opened her eyes. “Wow, those are bright blue eyes Harry. Do you know where she got them from?”

            “I’m guessing Narcissa; her eyes were blue. But Cissa’s eyes have been changing every day. They were Draco’s translucent grey when she was born and they keep getting darker,” I answered.

            “If they’re changing that fast, they may very well be green,” Molly said.

            “Oh, ‘ow lovelee, another green eyed Potter,” Fleur said.

            “I think I’d prefer they stay blue,” I replied.

            “Why?” Ginny asked. “Your eyes are green.”

            “Because Draco wanted a baby who looks like his mother. Blue eyes might help him come around,” I answered.

            “By come around you me pull his head out of his arse,” Ginny said.

            “Please don’t talk about him like that in front of Cissa,” I reminded her.

            Molly then chastised Ginny on her language around babies and how one shouldn’t say such negative things in front of a baby, even if Cissa was too little to know what was said.

            It was getting late, eyes drooping on the toddlers in the group. Fleur and Bill left with their three first, followed shortly after by Percy and his family. Cissa was out, so I gave Teddy one last hug, told him I loved him, and asked him to come visit me tomorrow evening. Then I took my baby home and put her to sleep in the bassinet, which I placed by the side of my bed, so I could get her easily in the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There was no clear consensus on the middle name, whether to leave it Maia, change it to Lily, or change it to some other name. Right now I’m leaning towards changing it to something like Lily, for plot reasons. Or I was thinking the name Isis would also work. Isis is the goddess associated with Sirius, so it would be like naming the child after Sirius. Also a reader suggested a feminized version of James, such as Jaclyn. I have a big plot twist with Draco coming up next chapter and I need the name set in stone beforehand… so if you have a preference between Lily, Isis, and Jaclyn, please let me know!


	18. Chapter18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The votes are in and the tally stands thusly: Lily: 2.33 Isis: 9.33 Jaclyn: 1.33  
> Isis has won!

            First thing the next morning I took Cissa to St. Mungo’s to get checked out, because she’d never seen an actual healer and I needed a birth certificate for her.

            I stepped through the floo direct to the maternity ward to see a rather full waiting room. I had to wait in a short line to talk to the witch behind the counter. When it was my turn, I told her why I was there and she replied, “Fill out these forms and have a seat. I’m afraid we’re rather backed up at the moment, so it may be a long wait.”

            That was disappointing, but Cissa was asleep in her infant carrier the Weasleys had given me last night, so I found a seat and settled in for the wait. I found a magazine on wizarding politics and started to read. I’d been out of the loop for over a year now and as a Ministry employee, it was always best to keep up with politics.

            I was just reading a piece on the three people running for the opening on the Wizengamot when I heard children crying. One cried, “Harry,” as he escaped from his great grandmother and ran to me, flinging himself into my arms. It was Roadrick.

 

 

 

            “Hey, what are you doing here Roadie?” I asked, turning my head quickly to make sure Cissa hadn’t been disturbed.

            “Father dead!” Roadie cried in between uncontrollable sobs, tears running down his face.

            I looked up to see a stern-faced woman approaching with Broderick. She held herself in a way reminiscent of Headmistress McGonagall and looked about as old as McGonagall too. She was tall and thin with silver white hair held in a prim and proper bun on her head. Her piercing grey eyes bore into me, offering no comfort to Broderick, whose hand she was holding.

            “Harry Potter, I presume,” she said.

            “Yes, I am. Um, I don’t mean to be rude, but who are you and why are you here with Draco’s boys?” I asked.

            “I am Dowager Lady Iona Malfoy, Draco’s grandmother. He collapsed in the night. The elves apparated him here and called me to watch the boys. I brought them here to visit their father. Is that my great granddaughter there?” She indicated Cissa.

            “Yes, she is. Come here Brodie, it’s going to be okay,” I said holding my free arm out to the other twin. “Don’t worry, Father isn’t going to die, is he Lady Dowager Malfoy?” I asked. I didn’t know what to call her and I didn’t want to offend her, because I’d need her on my side to make Draco see reason. Thus I went formal.

            “It’s Dowager Lady Malfoy. And no, your father is most certainly going to recover. He just needs to stay in hospital to get better. May I hold her? What have you named her?” she indicated Cissa again.

            “Yes, of course. Roadie, can you budge over for a moment so I can get the baby out?” I asked scooting the first twin onto the same side of my lap as his brother. Luckily they were thin.

            “Oh I can get her, I just wanted to make sure I had permission after the way my mentally unstable grandson has acted regarding her.” As she spoke, she kneeled down gracefully in front of Cissa’s infant carrier and carefully removed my daughter from the straps. “I do apologize on behalf of the family; that was no way to respond to having a child with red hair. If it bothers him that much, why he should put a hat on her dainty little head.” Having freed Cissa, she stood back up with the baby on her shoulder. “Oh what a precious little darling you are, aren’t you?” The last bit, judging by the high pitched voice in which it was said, was directed at Cissa. “Now what is your name sweet thing? You must have a name.”

            “Draco was going to name her Narcissa Maia Malfoy, but then he said she was a Potter. I’ve been calling her Cissa,” I offered, scooting Roadrick back to his original spot on my lap and wrapping my arms comfortingly around the boys, who had stopped crying, but only just.

            “You do look the spitting image of your namesake,” she said to the baby, before looking at me once more. “But I do so hate the name Maia; I’ve always hated my late daughter-in-law’s middle name. It’s the Blacks with their astrological names who think it’s grand to name a baby after a star; we Flints always choose names more down to Earth. My foolish grandson has allegedly washed his hands of the matter, which means you are free to pick a different middle name, if you so choose. Do you really like the name Maia?”

            “Um, no…I’d rather name her Lily, after my mother or Isis, after my godfather Sirius.”

            “I must caution you to leave her first name Narcissa, because that will be one of the deciding factors that brings my grandson to his senses, mark my words: Draco will not be able to ignore Baby Narcissa for long.”

            “I don’t mind leaving her first name Narcissa. Narcissa Lily,” I said, trying out the name, before shaking my head. “No, that’s two flowers, it won’t do. How about Narcissa Isis?”

            “Narcissa Isis Potter; it’s another of those astrological names, but it’s better than Maia. I think it suits you my little darling. I hope you’re not ill.”

            “Oh, no, she’s fine. I was just bringing her in for a checkup, but they said it would be a long wait.”

            “There’s no need to wait; Draco is already back there and his healer requested to see the baby that is responsible for his present state.”

            “What’s wrong with him?”

            “The dragon magic is needed for the body to revert back to its pre-pregnancy state. Draco left the island before the conversion process could be completed, which caused internal bleeding and necrosis of the uterus. They operated on him this morning to remove the uterus and excess blood and to stop the bleeding. I received word that he’d woken up, so I foolishly brought the boys in to see him. He was awake, but barely and seeing him scared them more than it helped. I just took them to the loo, but I need to speak to the healer before we leave.”

            “I had no idea, otherwise I would’ve insisted on bringing him straight here.”

            “It is not the type of thing one could know; I am not sure a male pregnancy being removed from the island so shortly after the birth has ever happened before. I’ll just return my precious Cissa to this contraption and then we’ll go back in to see Draco, shall we?” she asked kneeling down, to strap Cissa back in.

            We were soon led into Draco’s hospital room. He had several monitoring charms on him, along with an IV in his arm, linked to a bag of fluid floating in midair. His eyes were closed, but opened upon hearing Broderick cry out, “Father!”

            “Broderick, baby boy, what has you so upset?” Draco asked groggily, slurring badly, his eyes turning, but not really seeing. His eyes looked glassy and appeared to be focusing on a point halfway between himself and the twins, although a few degrees off to the left, where there was nothing of interest other than a cart of healer supplies and a plain closet.

            “Are ya hurt bad?” Broderick asked.

            “No, not really,” Draco replied.

            “Are ya dead?” Roadrick asked.

            “Decidedly not,” Draco slurred, closing his eyes again. “Being dead couldn’t possibly hurt this badly.” The last bit came out sounding even groggier.

            Changing moods in a flash, as only a three-year-old might, Broderick said, “I hol’ baby.” He pointed at Cissa and then at himself.

            In the moment it took to look over at Broderick, Draco relaxed back down into his bed. When I looked back at him, he appeared to be sleeping.

            “Me too!” Roadrick exclaimed, distracted from his earlier concern for his father by the prospect of finally getting to hold his sister. Draco had barely let the twins near her after the birth.

            “Yes Brodie, but let me help you with her,” I said. If Draco was asleep for the time being, then there was time for the twins to see their sister without him interfering.

            “Here, I’ll hand her to you, Auror Potter. You get Broderick ready,” Iona Malfoy said, kneeling down at Cissa’s infant carrier once more. For such as old lady, she still seemed amazingly able bodied, the way Dumbledore had.

            I sat down in the one plush armchair in Draco’s room and the twins climbed onto my lap, one on each side. Iona handed me the baby and I held her first over Broderick’s lap.

            “She pwetty,” Broderick said.

            “She _my_ baby,” Roadrick complained, kneeling and leaning over to get a better look.

            “She’s all of our baby,” I corrected. “You’ll get your turn in a moment Roadie, if you’ll just be patient.

            “Good baby,” Broderick said, patting Cissa gently on the head before placing a soft kiss on her cheek.

            “You’re doing such a good job being gentle Brodie, thank you,” I praised.

            “Brodie big brwother,” he informed me happily.

            “Roadie big brwother too!” Roadie complained.

            “Alright Brodie, let’s give Roadie a turn,” I said, shifting Cissa over. “Now sit back down Roadie, so you can see the baby.”

            Roadie sat and his look of jealousy shifted to a giant smirk as I held the baby over his lap.

            “See, she my baby: she my cowor,” Roadie said, pointing to Cissa’s red hair.

            “She my cowor too!” Brodie retorted, pointing to Cissa’s blue eyes, which were open at the moment. Now he was the one kneeling, leaning over to get a better look.

            “She’s both or your colors,” I replied.

            “No, Brodie baby bue. My baby red. See, red,” Roadie insisted, pointing first from Brodie to Brodie’s blue toad robes, then to Cissa’s red hair, and finally to his own red toad. They were both wearing green robes today, with one toad on the chest, each.

            “I don’t think it works like that Roadie. The only blue haired baby I’ve seen was Teddy,” I said.

            “Brodie have Teddy,” Roadie said, despite the fact that he had no idea who Teddy was.

            “No, Brodie want baby Ciss. Baby Ciss bue, like Brodie,” he said, pulling out the blue toad on his robes to show Cissa.

            “No, baby Ciss red,” Roadie countered.

            “No bue,” Brodie insisted. “See, bue.”

            And then Cissa’s hair color changed. It went from strawberry blond, flickered to pure blond, before settling on neon blue to match Brodie’s toad.

            “Yay! See my baby!” Brodie exclaimed happily.

            “Oh my, a metamorphmagus in the family. Narcissa always did say it ran in her family,” Iona said.

            “Yes, my godson Teddy and his mum are metamorphmagi and they both have Black blood, but I didn’t know Cissa was one too,” I said.

            “Well, have you seen any of her other features change?” Iona asked.

            “Just her eyes. They were Draco’s grey, but they keep getting darker,” I said.

            “No worry; if her hair changed once, then she is. These things sometimes take a few days to kick in. This will certainly make things easier with Draco,” Iona said.

            “How so?” I asked.

            “If the child can change her hair color to blond, she will be the spitting image of my dear late daughter-in-law and my grandson will have to love her,” Iona answered.

            “I hope you’re right,” I replied.

            A healer entered the room then, with a medical chart tucked under his armpit and pushing an empty basinet. He asked, “Now, who do we have here? I had a report from the nurses that you’d brought the baby in after all.” He was tall and thin with mostly grey hair flecked with blond strands. His eyes were blue and he had a nametag that stated his name was Healer Smith.

            “Yes, Auror Potter, the other father, brought the baby in. Can you check her over?” Iona asked.

            “Certainly. Now, now, blue hair, how unusual. Let me see her please,” Smith said, coming over and taking a proper look at the baby. He held out his hands for the baby.

            “It changed just now. It was strawberry blond. I think she’s a metamorphmagus,” I explained, placing the baby into the healer’s arms.

            “How very wonderful,” Smith said. He put the baby into the basinet and handed me a blank form. “This is the birth certificate. Please fill out the section on top and I’ll do the rest.” Then he began to cast diagnostic spells, recording the results in an empty chart. “Eighteen inches, seven pounds, good complexion, clear airways; everything seems fine so far. I trust she is moving her bowels regularly?”

            “Yes, definitely. I was worried about that, because we only had goat’s milk on the island and she keeps having diarrhea and gas. That’s one of the reasons I insisted on coming back right away,” I answered, looking up from my form. My section basically just wanted the parents’ names and statistics along with the child’s name. I filled in what I could and Iona provided Draco’s information for me.

            “Goat’s milk is not ideal, especially not for a baby this young, but in a pinch, it will do. Loose bowels are, however, normal when all a baby eats is milk,” he informed me. “The spell I did to check her digestive health indicated no problems there.”

            “Oh, thank Merlin.” I breathed out a sigh of relief.

            “Now just let me check her hearing and eyesight and then I’ll give her back to you,” he said.

            The remaining tests proved normal. Healer Smith took the birth certificate to Draco to sign, who wasn’t completely out after all. Draco reopened his eyes, but didn’t seem to be able to focus on the paper as he scribbled a sloppy signature on the line.

            “I will owl the official copy once it is ready,” Smith promised, glancing up from Draco, before peering in closer to Draco’s face, holding open the eyelids to examine the pupils. “It looks as if our patient is still quite clearly suffering the results of the potions he has been given. Our diagnostic spells show that he is in much better shape, but the health of a mind is a difficult thing to judge. If he does or says anything irrational, anything at all, please let us know. He may need further treatment by a mind healer.”

            “What? Why?” I asked confused. Iona hadn’t said anything about a brain injury.

            “Sorry Auror Potter, I assumed you had been informed of Lord Malfoy’s condition. Are you aware of the necrosis and internal bleeding, or do I need to start from the beginning?”

            “Yes, I know about that, but did he hurt his head when he fell or something?”

            “No, but our initial diagnostic tests showed that he was suffering from severe postpartum depression and a mild break with reality. The postpartum depression is a common side effect of birth, while the break with reality is normally associated with trauma, either physical or mental. We treated with potions that restore proper brain function and hormonal levels. The diagnostic tests now show results in the normal range. Unfortunately the combination of potions has caused his present state, but it should wear off soon. When it does we will be able to determine his mental state more precisely. For now just watch for irrational behavior and thoughts.”

            Then Smith dismissed himself, leaving me to redress the baby. Cissa started fussing while I was dressing her, so when I finished, I put her on my shoulder and started bouncing her.

            “Potter, what are you doing with my baby?” Draco slurred, with his arms held out as if expecting me to hand our daughter over. His eyes were clearer than before and actually focused on me for the first time that day.

            “Did you want to hold her then?” I asked hopefully, taking the two steps to his bed and holding her out. I wasn’t fearful of what he would do, because even at his angriest, he’d always been gentle with her. And above all, I knew he loved her.

            He nodded and took Cissa from me, holding her tenderly to his chest. “I don’t remember having her. Where has she been?” Draco asked.

            “With me, where you left her,” I answered.

            “Draco dear, the healer said that the pain potion you are on might cause some temporary memory loss in conjunction with the other potions they have given you,” Iona supplied.

            “I must’ve been very sick to leave a perfectly good baby with you. My grandmother’s here now, you can go,” Draco said.

            “Draco, you don’t remember any of it?” I asked. “Not even, her, um, hair?”

            “What did you do to her hair? Why’s it blue?” Draco asked accusingly. “All of my babies have blond hair.”

            “Draco, Cissa is a metamorphmagus; it runs in your family. It means her hair and other features can change at will,” Iona said.

            “Yes, Brodie asked her to change to blue, so she made her hair blue,” I added.

            “Broderick, not Brodie. Brodie is not dignified enough for a Malfoy,” Draco slurred, eyes closing.

            “Draco, are you tired? Do you want me to take our baby?” I asked.

            “Our baby? No, you can get your own. I made this one,” he replied.

            “I know you made her Draco, but don’t you remember? Cissa is both of our baby; we made her together,” I insisted.

            “No, I asked the dragon spirits for my mother and here she is, just like my mother…only with blue hair. I’ll have to teach her to keep her hair her natural blond, that’s all,” he said.

            “Let him think that for now,” Iona said.

            “Yes Draco, Cissa did come out looking just like your mother. Isn’t she beautiful? She had blond hair earlier; I wish you could’ve seen it.” It was only for a moment, but he didn’t need to know that.

            “Yes, beautiful Cissa. You are as pretty as your grandmother,” Draco told our daughter, who was starting to fuss again.

            “I don’t want you to worry about her while you’re in here, Draco. I’m going to take good care of her.” Just then Cissa let out a loud wail, signaling that she was hungry. “I better go home and feed her. Do you want me to bring her back later today?”

            “Yes,” Draco replied sleepily, handing me back the baby.

            I put Cissa in her carrier and headed out the door.

            “Oh and Harry,” Iona called.

            “Yes,” I said turning around to look at the old lady.

            “My son Lucius would like you to visit with the baby. I believe my grandson’s one condition for letting you have her was that you would take her to visit my son on a regular basis,” she said.

            “Yes, alright, I will. It was nice meeting you Lady Malfoy,” I said, turning to leave once more, because Cissa was really starting to scream.

            “It’s Dowager Lady Malfoy,” she corrected to my back. “And due stop by the Manor to pick up the wardrobe I purchased for Cissa. No sense letting designer clothing go to waste over my grandson’s latest fit.”

            “Ta Harry!” the twins called in unison to my back.

            I quickly muttered my agreement and parting words, already walking out the door with my hungry daughter. Next time I would have to take the nappy bag prepared with milk and bottles, so that I wouldn’t have to leave. And come to think of it, this carrier was heavy and I probably wouldn’t be so eager again to use it instead of the bulky pram; no wonder people bought prams in the first place.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So there it is, the reason I needed to change the name. Draco has amnesia and I need proof of his bad behavior for later. The only question is how long should his amnesia last.
> 
>  
> 
> What do you think of the metamorphmagus bit? Can you picture two little Draco’s fighting over their baby sister? Their father has so far provided them with everything in pairs, but now there is only one baby sister and they have to share. I don’t imagine they would be any good at sharing, hehe.
> 
> Please Review!


	19. Chapter19

            Later that day, I contacted the Corrections Department at the Ministry and put in a request to have Lucius Malfoy transferred to the Auror department for an interview. I was not about to bring my newborn daughter to Azkaban and as an Auror, I could have him moved for the day. I only hoped that my boss would be okay with it and that I wouldn’t get said privilege revoked for using it too much. After all, I had promised Draco that his father could see his daughter once a week.

            That evening I visited Draco again—this time it was just me and Cissa—and he still didn’t remember all of the awful things he’d said or that he didn’t want the baby. Her hair was back to red, but I blamed it on the metamorphmagus skills.

            He held her and told her, “I like your hair better blond, my sweet flower,” despite the fact that he’d never seen it blond.

            “It was black with blue tips earlier,” I proffered up, since I couldn’t say it’d been blond again. “If it wasn’t for the blue, it was my color exactly.”

            “Blue tips, Cissa? I know Broderick and Roadrick have no taste—they’re boys—but I expected better of you.” That bit was spoken in a clear voice to our daughter, but the next Draco mumbled to himself. “I ought to dress the twins in white from now on, so she’ll stop choosing her hair color based on their outfits.”

            Then Draco curled up on his side with Cissa tucked safely in one arm. He watched her for a while, studying her face, but then his eyes started to droop. The visit was short, because he was still rather out of it from the potions he was being given. Before I left, Healer Gilliam informed me that Draco would be released tomorrow if everything looked good. He wasn’t expected to be completely healed by then, after all it was a major operation and not even magic could work that quickly, but he was on the mend and he was taking his pain potion with him.

            Draco stirred and murmured something when I took Cissa from his arms. His speech was groggy and hard to understand, but he repeated it a second time. “Promise to bring her back.”

            I promised. I worried that come the morning he would suddenly remember and not want the baby, but I was also hopeful that he’d seen the error of his ways. Obviously he didn’t think there was anything wrong with our daughter when he thought her hair color was the result of her being a metamorphmagus. Hopefully his love for her would soon mean that it didn’t matter what color hair she has.

            That evening Hermione, Ron, and I gathered in the drawing room at Grimmauld Place to talk, Cissa sleeping in Hermione’s arms. To begin, I relayed the good news about Draco. They were pleased for me and Cissa, but urged me not to get my hopes up. Then Ron had news that he’d been assigned to the taskforce being put together to storm the island of the dragon reserve to take it back from the terrorists. He couldn’t give me any details, because the mission was classified, but it was good news. In the months to come, the standoff should finally come to an end. Good witches, wizards, and mermaids would finally be allowed to return to their homes and the murderers would be punished.

            The next morning I spent with Teddy, catching up on all of the things in his life I’d missed and letting him get to know the baby. It was a Saturday, so he didn’t have school to worry about. He was very attentive and gentle with Cissa.

            “Thankth Harry for finally getting me a thither!” Teddy told me.

            “You’re welcome. I didn’t know you wanted one,” I replied.

            “Yeah; all the kidth have them,” he said with a shrug.

            “Listen Teddy, I have to pick Draco, Cissa’s father, up from hospital this afternoon. Do you want to go with us?” I asked.

            I’d had an owl that morning from Iona stating that she knew Draco had asked me to come and asking that if I was, could I bring Draco to Malfoy Manor while she stayed put with the twins. She was an old woman and the twins were highly active, so I’d acceded. As for Teddy, I’d told Andromeda I’d take him for the weekend, so I hoped the two halves of my lives could successfully merge. If not, I’d call Molly Weasley to help, not wanting to disturb Dromeda’s plans.

            “Yeah, I guethth,” Teddy replied.

            And so that’s how I ended picking Draco up at St. Mungo’s with Teddy and Cissa in tow. Teddy was a well behaved kid used to being around grown-ups and being dragged to his grandmother’s healer appointments, so I didn’t anticipate having any problems with him. Where I went wrong was in not realizing that healer Gilliam would want another word about the missing memories.

            Realizing where this was heading and thinking on my feet, I asked, “Can we have this conversation in your office? I’m a bit distracted with Draco and the kids and I want to make sure I have all of his leaving instructions down correctly.”

            Draco helped my case at that moment by climbing out of the bed to get to Cissa in her pram. I’d let Teddy push the pram and he was shyly standing off to the side of the door with it, five feet away from Draco’s bed. Draco didn’t fall or stumble, but his legs were clearly shaky and he looked to be holding onto the pram for support as he tried to undo the straps holding our baby in.

            “Wait just a minute, Lord Malfoy, and you can take her home,” the healer suggested to Draco, before nodding to me.

            “I want to hold her now,” Draco insisted, struggling with the straps that even Teddy could manage. His tone was harsh, but bordering on whiney. “How do you do these blasted straps?”

            “Here, I’ll do it. You sit back down,” I said, inserting my hands in under Draco’s at the latch, effectively preventing his access to our newborn.

            Draco grumbled, but complied, while Healer Gilliam called into the hall for a nurse to supervise the patient with the two children. A bright cheery voice could be heard responding back, but no one rushed into the room.

            Once Draco was seated squarely on the bed, I placed our daughter into his arms. I was about to turn back to the healer, but noticed Teddy out of the corner of my eye. My godson seemed frightened by something, either the commotion, or all of the strange people, or that the sister I’d just given him had been taken away from him. Whichever was the case, I had to reassure him.

            “Teddy, why don’t you sit in this chair for me?” I asked, indicating the chair on the side of the room, where I’d sat with the twins. “I’ll only be a few minutes with the healer, and a nurse is going to come in and watch you.”

            “Ith thee thill my thither?” Teddy asked, sitting down wide eyed, as the nurse came in.

            She was a motherly looking witch; a bit on the plump side, but still young and vibrant in appearance. She stood back observing the scene for a moment, before approaching the healer. The two medical professionals whispered for a moment in the corner, seemingly unconcerned by the family drama I was facing. And here I thought this was going to be a simple pick up and go mission.

            I nodded and turned to Draco, saying, “Draco, this is my son Teddy. He’s Cissa’s big brother. Teddy, this is, er, Draco? What do you want him to call you?” I was not willing to have an argument about this in front of Teddy, so I left no room for one. During our time together on the island, I’d mentioned Teddy enough that this shouldn’t come as a total shock. I wasn’t sure if I specifically mentioned that I considered Teddy my son, but most people said it was obvious in the way I spoke about him.

            “You can call me Malfoy.” Draco’s tone was amused, not pompous, but it was directed at me, instead of Teddy. “He can call me Cousin Draco; he is a blood relative, you know.” That at least he remembered from our conversations on the island, although I probably mentioned it early on, back when he had morning sickness and long before the period that had become a blank for him.

            “Great. Teddy, this is your Cousin Draco,” I said. “The two of you are to share Cissa while I’m gone.”

            “Thee’th my thither, Couthin Drwaco,” Teddy replied, trying to make sure his claim was firmly staked. To prove his statement, he pointed back and forth between Cissa’s dark green hair and his own equally dark green locks. The two had been copying each other’s hair color all morning.

            “Potter, I really have no idea what my dear Cousin Teddy is saying. Please translate,” Draco replied with a polite smile instead of his usual sneer. Personally his smirk was my favorite and this sort of half smile I found a bit creepy.

            “It’s not that hard to figure it out; just replace TH for S. He just told you that Cissa is his sister. I’m not willing to argue this matter. All of our boys are going to be her brothers.”

            “That’s fine, Potter, you are no longer needed here and may leave.” Then Draco’s tone switched from stern to friendly. “Cousin Teddy, would you like to come over here and help me count Cissa’s toes? I worry that Potter might have forgotten a few. Does he ever forget some of your toes behind?” Teddy shook his head, but came closer, to the foot of the bed, where he was just out of Draco’s reach. “Well I’m sure that’s because you’re such a big boy you remember to take them all by yourself.”

            My mouth dropped open as I realized Draco was making a joke for Teddy’s benefit; he was making it at my expense, but doing it for me, to make my godson feel more comfortable here. It also occurred to me then that he was good with children and not just his own. Sure I’d seen him play with his twins loads of time, but it was entirely different to be good with your own children than to be good with someone else’s.

            While Draco interacted with Teddy, the medical whispering in the corner ceased and the pair broke apart. Healer Gilliam went towards the door, clearly waiting for me, while the nurse approached Draco’s bed and her charges. “Auror Potter, I’m Nurse Beake, and I will have everything perfectly in hand,” the nurse said.

            “Draco, listen to Nurse Beake and don’t try to do too much. I really will be right back,” I reassured, for what felt like the hundredth time that day.

            “I won’t have a problem keeping order and I have a coloring book here for your little boy,” as she spoke, Nurse Beake produced a small tab of coloring papers and an equally small crayon box.

            Teddy accepted the gifts, but abandoned them on the floor, in favor of counting Cissa’s toes with Draco.

            And finally, after all of that, healer Gilliam and I were able to excuse ourselves from the room. He led me down the hall to his cluttered office, patient files crowding every available surface. And then he began again to go over Draco’s discharge instructions.

            There was an uncomfortable bit where the healer droned on about memory loss and what they could do about it, while I acted like I wasn’t all for prolonging it. He had a potion to help with memory loss, but Draco’s situation was rather rare. With the other potions in his system, it wasn’t a good idea to mix in one more; especially not with something as dangerous as a mind-potion. Thus the healer and colleagues wanted to wait until everything was out of his system and give him the chance to remember on his own. Gilliam urged me to bring Draco back in two weeks if he didn’t remember; advice I was determined not to pass along to anyone. And with Draco, Teddy, and Cissa all in the other room, who was to know?

            I thanked the healer and returned to Draco’s room, where Teddy and Draco were getting along just fine, bonding over the baby. They were apparently finished counting fingers and toes, because Draco looked up at me and said, “Good job on remembering all twenty digits.”

            “Yeah, and Couthin Draco thaid I could come over and help out with my thither,” Teddy added. After a confused look from Draco, Nurse Beake repeated it. Her sole purpose seemed to be to translate Teddy’s speech for Draco.

            Finally time to go, I strapped Cissa in her pram and let Teddy push again. I saw to Draco, wrapping my arm around him to help steady him. And Lifton the house elf came for Draco’s things. We flooed over to Malfoy Manor, where Iona, the twins, and the elves were waiting for us.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Up next Draco will finally return to Malfoy Manor. It will be the first time Teddy and the twins meet. Do you think they’ll get along? Teddy is more mature and used to being around grownups all day, while the twins are double trouble; I imagine two energetic whirls of little Dracos running about. And all three boys are possessive over baby Cissa.  
> Please Review!


	20. Chapter20

            We flooed over to Malfoy Manor, where Iona, the twins, and the elves were waiting for us. Draco was still out of it, so I guided him to a sofa, where the twins then proceeded to bogart his time showing him pictures they’d made depicting his homecoming. Teddy found himself a place on a nearby sofa and sat with the pram, singing softly to the baby.

            “Who is this nice young man you have with you, Harry?” Iona asked.

            “My godson Teddy. His grandmum is Andromeda Tonks; he lives with her, but stays with me when I don’t have work,” I answered. “I’m to have him all weekend.”

            “Oh, what happened to his parents?” she asked.

            “Died in the final battle, the both of them.” And then to change the subject, I said, “I’ve put in a request to speak with Lucius. I’ll take Cissa to see him as soon as it’s granted.”

            “Good to hear. Would you like to see some family photos dear? You might be surprised to learn how much our darling Cissa looks like her grandmother.”

            I approved that idea. She sent an elf for a few photo albums and proceeded to show me baby pictures. She started with Narcissa, who as a baby looked virtually identical to the way my Cissa looked now, minus the red hair; Narcissa’s eyes were even the same shade of dark blue. Also in the Black family album were pictures of Dromeda and the Black parents, which I called Teddy over to see. He brought the pram with his sister over, parking it a foot in front of the sofa, either to continue staking his claim upon the baby or to be a proper big brother and not leave his sister behind. Cissa was asleep and didn’t stir when the pram moved.

            Teddy climbed up onto my lap and was amazed to see his grandmother as a baby, because she only had a handful of pictures of herself as a child. Dromeda hadn’t been granted any of the family photo albums when she was disowned, so they had all gone to Narcissa and then to Draco. “My gran look like that! Thee look like my thither!” he exclaimed, his little index finger touching the old photo.

            It was true. As an adult Dromeda shared more features in common with her older sister Bellatrix, but as a baby the resemblance to Narcissa and Cissa was clear. Dromeda had even had light brown hair, which Teddy mimicked now.

            Up until that point, the twins had been pressing Draco for attention and fishing for complements on their drawings, which Draco enthusiastically provided. But at Teddy’s exclamation, Roadrick’s ears perked up. Roadrick ran over to see what we were all looking at, soon followed after by Broderick and Draco. Roadrick found a place on Iona’s bony lap, ducking under her arm to get a look at the photos. Draco sat on my other side, Broderick in his lap and leaning into me so that he could get a better look. Broderick mimicked his father’s pose, leaning into Teddy to see.

            “That my Cissa!” Roadrick exclaimed, pointing to one of a baby Narcissa in the arms of a two-year-old Dromeda.

            “No, that your gran and that my gran,” Teddy corrected, pointing first to the baby and then the toddler.

            “Yes, Cousin Teddy is correct; that is your grandmother Narcissa,” Iona said.

            “Your grandmother was a wonderful person,” Draco added.

            We turned the page to view the next photo and continued on in a similar manner until we finished the old album. Then Iona pulled out a similarly aged Malfoy album. She showed us a few of Lucius with her and her husband, which was how I learned that Lucius’ father had had blue eyes and a pointy face and that Iona Malfoy’s hair was originally dirty blond. Then there was a more recent Malfoy album and Draco’s baby pictures, showing an adorable baby, including several embarrassing ones, such as him sucking on his big toe and another of him naked in the tub. Finally she finished off with baby photos of the twins, which were indistinguishable from Draco’s, except that there were two of them.

            “I feel up for a bit of a walk. Will you show me where our rooms are set up Grandmother?” Draco asked, interrupting the last of the photos.

            “Of course dear,” Iona said, before instructing an elf to put the albums away.

            We then migrated in mass up the stairs to the second floor, west wing. It was a large house, but Iona showed us only two rooms: Draco’s room and the twin’s room next to it.

            “Where’s Cissa’s room?” Draco asked, heading towards the door on the other side of his room. “It should be here on the other side of mine.”

            Draco opened the door to reveal a plain guestroom with the only baby things in it piled on the large bed. It was mostly clothes; lots of pink, purple, and white covered in baby erumpents, flowers, and bluebirds, respectively. They were laid out in matching sets, everything from dresses, to one-piece suits, to nightgowns, to packs of undershirts, to hats, to booties, to packs of socks, to bibs, to burp cloths, to receiving blankets. Then there was a pile of the less cutesy baby necessities: packs of new bottles and soothers, nappies, wash cloths, towels, shampoo, lotion, and topped off with a purple portable changing pad, a bulb syringe, and a bottle brush. There was also a silver rattle in the shape of a narcissus and a matching silver soft bristled hairbrush. These were obviously the things Iona Malfoy had purchased for the baby and asked me to come around to pick up.

            “Draco,” I said, getting his attention as he stepped through the door to the other room.  
            “Yes Potter?”

            “Cissa’s room is at my house. If you’d like, you can come over and I’ll show you,” I offered.

            “Why is my daughter’s room at your house? If you must stay with her, you may have a room here.”

            “You may not remember this Draco, but you gave her to me with all of her things to keep.”

            “Because you weren’t feeling well,” Iona added. “I couldn’t handle the twins, the baby, and you, so you let Harry here take the baby for the night. Harry will be perfectly willing to move her things over now and take the room at the end of the hall, won’t you dear?”

            “Yes, Dowager Lady,” I answered, catching on. If Draco didn’t remember acting like an arse then we didn’t need to remind him of it.

            “See that it’s done,” he said. Then Draco reached out and snagged up a few of the more adorable pieces of baby clothing in the bluebird set, hugging them to his chest. “And Grandmother, thank you very much for the baby things. They are beautiful.”

            “You’re welcome my dear. I know you said you couldn’t be sure of a girl and not to buy anything yet, but I didn’t listen. I knew the Dragon Spirits would finally hear you and I couldn’t resist.” Iona spoke with a stern kindness and a twinkle in her grey eyes.

            Draco nodded and said, “That was a long walk; I’m going to lie down in my room for a bit.” Then he disappeared into his room and took the pram with the baby and the handful of bluebird clothing with him.

            Iona led all three boys down the hall to a playroom, while I followed Draco inside his room, to see what he was going to do with my baby. He lay down on his bed and then asked me to hand him Cissa out of the pram. He changed her into the new clothes, a large actively fluttering bluebird on the chest of her nightie and little bluebirds flying around the receiving blanket he wrapped her in, and cuddled her lovingly to his chest.

            “Father missed you princess,” Draco said, kissing Cissa’s now thankfully blond hair. I wasn’t sure when it had changed, but Teddy’s had changed to blond while viewing the final photo album. There was a good chance she’d changed it upon waking up from her nap and seeing Teddy, copying blond, the same way she’d copied the green color this morning.

            Draco was absorbed in the baby for a time, examining each of her little fingers and toes. I found a bare bit of wall to lean up against and waited. I didn’t entirely trust him with Cissa, although he’d never once put her in any danger or been careless with her, not even when he didn’t want her. At his worst he’d ignored her and set the elves to tend to her.

            “What are you still doing here Potter?” Draco asked, looking up and noticing me.

            “Um, well…it’s just…I, er…”

            “You’re acting weird. Did something happen you’re not telling me about? I didn’t collapse holding Cissa, did I?”

            “No, I already had her in my room then. You weren’t feeling well from the day before.”

            “So basically as soon as I left the island?”

            “Pretty much.”

            “It still doesn’t make sense that I let you take her with you. Why didn’t you just move in here with me?”

            “Well that’s what we were going to do, but you were feeling sick.” I was grasping at straws here.

            “And I was worried I’d get the baby sick too?”

            “Yes! You were worried Cissa would catch whatever it was you had, so I took her with me to my house.” I breathed a sigh of relief, grateful he’d bought the lie. It’s amazing how the human brain fills in what it wants to think.

            “Alright; there’s just one more thing I don’t understand.”

            “What’s that?”

            “Why do you think she’s your baby? I thought you knew. Didn’t I tell you about the Dragon Spirits impregnating me without a second person?”

            “Yes, with the twins, but we made Cissa together. She is both of ours.”

            “I don’t see how.”

            “Not this again,” I moaned. “I thought we were past this. You agreed that Teddy could be her big brother.”

            “Honestly Potter, I have no idea what is going on, then or now. I don’t remembering agreeing to any of it; it just happened and I didn’t want to say anything in front of the child. Why are you even here? And how did you, of all people, get my baby? I remember you being in my cave, but I don’t even understand how or why that happened. It’s like a bad dream where the ever-present Potter is everywhere and insists on inserting himself into my life. Are you really here, bothering me again? It’s like sixth year all over again, but this time you’re all knowing.”

            “Yes, I’m here.” I didn’t want to get into most of the questions he’d just raised, so I stuck to the Teddy issue. “Look, Teddy spent the day with Cissa acting as her big brother. He’s really good with her and already attached. He’s like a son to me and he’s really looking forward to this. He’s an orphan; he doesn’t have any true siblings and he’s not ever going to get any.”

            “He’s a relative and all, so if you want to reestablish the family connection, then alright. I think siblings is going a bit far, even for you, but I don’t want to hurt him. And speaking of him, I don’t mean to be rude, but _what in Salazar’s name_ , is wrong with his speech? If you were a proper father to him, you would have seen that it was fixed by now. What is he, like eight?”

            “No, he’s six. And we were working on it; he sees a speech therapist at school. It was loads better before I left, but if you haven’t noticed, he’s recently lost all four front teeth. The therapist said it will improve when he gets some teeth back and not to worry too much about this set back.”

            “Alright, but as his cousin, I really must insist that he be taught proper grammar and diction. If he is not receiving these courses in school, you either need to higher him a private tutor or switch him to a better school.”

            “Merlin Malfoy, are you going to be this anal about our daughter too?”

            “ _Our_ daughter? You mean _my_ daughter.”

            And we were right back around to the beginning. “Draco, you told me she was mine right after she was born.” I abandoned his inane request to call him by his last name when we shared a child together, using the more personal first name, in hopes of getting through to him. “You insulted my intelligence for not figuring it out and said she looked like me.”

            “Shite. Why would I say that?” He blushed, obviously caught in his lie.

            “You were a bit out of it after the birth.”

            “Oh…I think I still am. None of this is making sense.”

            “Now may I ask you why you lied to me? Why you didn’t want me involved in my daughter’s life?”

            “I didn’t want to have to share her with you. We don’t exactly get on and I didn’t want her to be one of those children who is pulled from house to house because her parents hate each other.”

            That was a far more noble reason than I was expecting. It was still selfish, but less selfish than I was imagining.

            “We don’t hate each other Draco,” I said softly, looking into his eyes.

            “We don’t?”

            “No, we were actually getting on quite well. What’s the last thing you remember?”

            He turned his head away, refusing to make eye contact, his blush deepening. “I went to your room…at night.”

            “I thought you were never going to acknowledge that,” I teased.

            “I wasn’t, but that’s all I remember. I was…er full…and then I was waking up in St. Mungo’s. What happened in between?”

            “We fell asleep in each other’s arms and in the morning I asked you to be my boyfriend.” That was true enough, although it was a biased view.

            “Boyfriend?” he asked, wide eyes jumping to me. There was a resemblance to Teddy in the action; I probably only noticed it because I knew them both so well, but it was there.

            “Yes.”

            “And I?”

            “Yes.” I didn’t know what I was agreeing to, but it sounded like it must be good the way he asked it. Besides, I could later use the fact that I hadn’t actually said anything untrue and only agreed to an unspoken implication.

            He reached a hand to his head and fell back on the bed a little. “I’m feeling dizzy. Will you take the baby for me?”

            “Yes, come here Cissa. Whew, you need a new nappy,” I said, scooping my daughter up. She smelled; the child was like clockwork going three or four times a day.

            “Thank you. I’m going to rest; I need some time to think. Can you watch the baby?”

            I acquiesced and took Cissa to the next room. The elves were already clearing out the unneeded guestroom furniture in order to make room for the nursery, Iona’s gifts pushed aside into a chest of drawers. Soon the nursery would be moved over from Grimmauld Place into this room. I was disappointed to lose it, especially the things the Weasleys had given me, but as long as I was being allowed to stay with her, it was alright.

            I changed Cissa’s nappy using the pile of changing supplies from Iona, before going to find the old witch with the boys in the playroom. I informed her of the fib I’d let her grandson believe. I could’ve sworn she would gut me for it, my insides twisting in anticipation, but she didn’t.

            “That is probably for the best. I hope for all our sakes he never remembers. I suggest you play it up with flowers and presents: my grandson is fond of expensive clothing and watches as well as flowers. Narcissus and black dahlia flowers are his favorites, but any black or white flowers will do, really,” Iona said pointedly.

            “Right, well I’ll have to go shopping then, but I don’t want to take the baby out,” I said, feeling immensely relieved.

            “I can call some of Draco’s friends to help me with the children.”

            “I’d rather call some of mine; Molly Weasley would come in a flash.” Ordinarily Dromeda would do anything for me, including babysit her sister’s grandchildren, but this was her first day off from fulltime Teddy detail since the last time I’d been home. I’d promised to take him for the entire weekend, so she already had plans and I didn’t want to impose.

            “Best not. We don’t want to take this too far; if we are going to make this work, we mustn’t stretch the bounds of believability too far.”

            It was decided that Iona would call her friend Mrs. Greengrass and Mrs. Greengrass’ granddaughter, Daphne Nott, to come help tomorrow and that I’d wait until then to go shopping. In the meantime, I called Kreacher and ordered him to stop by the florist and purchase any bouquet of black and white flowers he could get.

            Finally I told Teddy and the twins, separately, that Draco and I were dating. Teddy was old enough to know something was off about that statement, but he’d been around for the shorter amount of time and he trusted me. Thus I was able to convince him that it was a secret and I’d just never told anyone about it. For consistency, I told him that I didn’t want him telling anyone about the secret relationnship outside of this house, at least for now. The twins were much easier to convince, being three and possessing the reasoning skills of three-year-olds. I said their father and I were boyfriends since Cissa was born and that we were sharing the baby and they believed me.

            Cissa was down for a nap, after Iona fed her a bottle. It was already growing late and we needed to think about where Teddy and I were going to sleep for the night, so I went to the room at the end of the hall that I’d tentatively been assigned. It was already furnished as a guest bedroom, so all I needed for the night were my clothes and toiletries, which I had Kreacher fetch. When I asked Iona for something for Teddy to sleep on, she directed me to another guest bedroom across the hall.

            I was setting Teddy’s overnight bag, courtesy of Kreacher, in the other guest bedroom when a delivery elf arrived with a stunning bouquet.

            “Jiffy from Rose’s roses has a bouquet for Auror Harry Potter, sir,” the elf said, presenting the vase of flowers to me. “They is chocolate cosmos, black calla lilies, and white roses, sir.”

            “They’re perfect. How much do I owe you?”

            “Kreacher the house elf already settled the bill. Where may I set these, sir?”

            I directed the elf to Draco’s room, knocking on the door and peeking into the room to see if he was awake. He was lying in bed, but he opened his eyes.

            “Sorry, it’s just the delivery elf needs to get in here to put down the flowers,” I said, ushering the elf in.

            Jiffy set the vase on Draco’s chest of drawers, right in front of his dressing mirror, which reflected the beauty out into the room. The elf gave a curt nod and vanished with a snap.

            “Someone bought me flowers?” Draco asked groggily, sitting up, to get a better look.

            “Yes, I did. I would have bought you flowers a hundred times before now, but you know, with being trapped on the island and then the drama of you in hospital…But now that you’re home and on your way to recovery, I thought it was time,” I said.

            “Help me up; I’m still feeling dizzy and I want to get a better look.”

            I offered him my arm as he walked over to the bouquet to examine his flowers. I’d never expected him to be so fond of flowers, despite having some familiarity with gay men and their flowers. It was rather gratifying to see how happy he was with something his grandmother, my elf, and the florist had put together in my name. Iona Malfoy had gone from stern old lady to one of my staunchest supporters in the span of a day; if she kept giving me tips like this, I might just manage to woo her grandson before he remembers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Harry is being a bit under-handed here, but his heart is in the right place. Please Review!


	21. Chapter21

            The Daphne Nott who came to help Iona Sunday turned out to be the Daphne Greengrass who has gone to Hogwarts with us. She was now married to Theo Nott and had two children, who she brought with her, along with her grandmother, Madam Greengrass. She had a girl a year older than the twins and a one-year-old boy who fit right in, playing with Teddy and the twins in the playroom.

            I left the women to supervise while I went shopping for an expensive watch, cologne, and a fancy new cloak for Draco. I told the shopkeepers what I wanted and who it was for and let them pick out the most ostentatiously pureblooded item they had, no matter the cost. While I was at it, I bought myself a pricey new set of dress robes that I thought might impress him, with matching shiny black leather shoes. I specifically asked that they conform to pureblood style, so with any luck, he’d like them on me.

            I wore my new clothes for dinner Sunday. After dinner, I got down on my knees, gave Draco the watch, and asked him again to be my boyfriend. I went with the watch, because it was the nicer of the gifts and the most likely to impress him. I’d save the other gifts for tomorrow and the next day, giving him one gift each day in the hopes of keeping him hooked. If I managed to keep him that long, I’d probably go back out shopping.

            “Why are you asking again?” Draco asked, awe in his voice as he looked between me and the titanium watch.

            “Because you don’t remember the last time,” I answered, a huge smile on my face as I realized he was going to say yes. He had to say yes, given the way he was looking at me.

            “I can’t believe this is actually happening. But after that dress for Cissa, the flowers yesterday, and now this, you must really love us, don’t you?”

            “Yes, I do, but I didn’t buy the dress. Hermione and Molly Weasley bought the dress. I plan on buying her tons of dresses when I get the chance, but I didn’t buy that one.” It occurred to me then that he counted buying things for the children as gifts to him. If that was the case, there was a myriad of things I could buy our daughter and I’d even go buy some things for the twins, so that they won’t feel left out.

            “Oh. Please tell them I said thank you then.”

            “Well?”

            “Well what?”

            “You never answered my question, Draco.”

            “I thought it was obvious: yes.”

            “May I kiss you now?” I asked, standing up and leaning in. My knees were stiff after he’d left me kneeling for so long.

            He nodded and I leaned in. It was a brilliant snog and we broke apart only because Teddy started whistling, a whispery wooden sound given his lack of front teeth. The twins were trying to copy him, screeching merrily along at the sight.

            Teddy had school the next morning, so I had to take him home to Andy then. But after all of the children were in their beds, Draco let me climb into his bed and snog him properly. We didn’t make love, though I wanted to, because of his condition. Sex hadn’t been expressly forbidden, but he was still on a lower dose of the pain meds, and neither of us had asked the healer if it was allowed.  
            I received an owl Monday informing me that Lucius would be moved to the Ministry for me Tuesday. When I informed Draco of the news and told him of my desire to take Cissa to see her grandfather, he acted like it was an even better gift than the cloak and the watch. He didn’t remember our arrangement and no one had bothered informing him of it; I didn’t mention it now, instead acting like it was my idea to visit Lucius. Of course he wanted to go with me, which might cause some difficulty, because Lucius had known the truth of what was going on.

            Draco had partially remembered what happened. He’d woken up Monday morning having remembered bits and pieces of it in a dream. I struggled with my conscience then, debating whether or not to tell him the truth. On the one side there was the truth and misery all around, while on the other there was happiness for everyone involved, Draco, Cissa, and myself included. Plus there was the promise of mind-blowing sex and Cissa having her father and brothers in her life to think about. In the end I’d assured him that it hadn’t happened and was all just a bad dream. I gave him a much happier account of what happened and he believed me.

            Monday night I had a chance to speak to Iona without Draco present when I helped her bathe and dress the boys. I told her about the upcoming visit with Lucius and she was quite certain her son would support lying to her grandson. She said that as long as I could get to Lucius first and tell him what was going on, he would agree to lie for me. According to his mother, Lucius was appalled when he learned his son had rejected his granddaughter. The simple fact that Lucius had asked for regular visitation alone was enough to convince me that she was right.

 

* * *

 

 

            Tuesday morning I woke up in Draco’s arms, but not to the sound of Cissa’s cries for once, because it was Draco who’d screamed.

            “What? What is it?” I asked groggily.

            “I had the dream again,” he said in between pants of breath, clearly distressed.

            I was instantly awake the moment he said it, mind working in overdrive. “What happened?” I hoped there wasn’t anything in it that would give away my lie and that I could brush this bad dream under the rug with the other.

            “I didn’t want my baby. She had red hair, like when Roadrick shows her the red on his robes, but I thought it was her real hair color and didn’t want her.” He took a large gulp of breath that sounded like he was struggling not to break down and cry. “I gave my precious baby to you.” Then he let out a sob and I could see a single tear fall down his face.

            “Come here, it’s okay,” I said, taking him into my arms. “It was just a bad dream.”

            “But I didn’t want her.” His words were muffled, because he spoke them into my chest. “How could I not want my own baby?”  
            That was what I wanted to know. “You couldn’t. You love her very much, don’t you?”

            He nodded into my chest and I held him like that, occasionally placing sweet kisses to the top of his head. He was taller than me and I could only reach his head, because he was scooted further down on the bed than me, with his head lying on my chest.

            We stayed like that until Cissa woke up, wanting a bottle. He fed her and we went about our morning routine, preparing to visit Lucius. Draco dressed himself to the hilt, while I dressed Cissa in the fancy dress the Weasleys had given her, complete with soft shiny little black shoes and a hat to cover the red hair.

            “I wish you wouldn’t keep copying Roadrick sweetie; it reminds father of a bad dream. Could you go back to blond for me?” Draco asked our daughter, showing her his blond hair. She copied the green in his robes instead. “Close enough.”

            The twins were dressed in their best robes, which were too short and needed to be stretched to cover their ankles. They’d grown since the last time Draco had had a chance to go shopping and it was time to buy them some new clothes.

            I put on my Auror robes, feeling underdressed next to Draco and the children in their best. But I was also grateful that I wouldn’t have to wear my one nice set of robes again so soon and reveal the fact that I only owned the one set. If I managed to fool Draco another day I’d have to pick up another set for myself when I go out for more gifts. Iona seemed to think distracting Draco from the truth with gifts would really work. She was certain her grandson was shallow enough to let expensive gifts overshadow the fact that I’d lied to him.

            The lot of us flooed to the Ministry and then made our way through the crowd to my office. The reporters were there with the photographer flashing away at the Bones bloke for the paper; the Bones scandal being occasional front page news, depending on how court went each day. Something must have alerted them that there was something different about me, because I didn’t often escort the Malfoy family dressed in their most formal clothing through the Ministry. They dropped Boneses and were on us just as we obtained the lifts. I blocked them from following us and spelled the door closed in their faces.

            The reporters must have figured out where we were going, because they were soon crowding the small waiting room and harassing the wizard at the front desk. But we had a head start on them and were through the security door before the door to their lift even opened. The only photo they got was of us disappearing down the hallway on the other side of the glass window.

            Lucius was already there, waiting in an interrogation room. There were some formalities that had to be dealt with first, such as paperwork, so I sat Draco and the children at my desk. Ron had the cubicle next to mine and he was away from his desk, so that left them a bit more room. Roadrick sat down in Ron’s chair and I borrowed a spare from the hall for Broderick. Draco had my chair and Cissa was in her pram when I left them.

            Once the paperwork was handled, I went in to see Lucius without letting Draco know what I was doing.

            “Hello Auror Potter,” Lucius greeted stiffly.

            “Lucius,” I returned equally stiffly. I didn’t know where I stood with this man and he might blow me out of the water today. Of course if this little interview didn’t go my way, I might just cancel the meeting with Draco and the kids and let him think there was some Ministry mix up that prevented his father from being here today. Although, that was a horrible thought and I didn’t think I could go through with it; instead I was pinning all my hopes on this man.

            “I had assumed you were bringing my granddaughter for this visit.”

            “She’s here. Practically your whole family is with me; Draco and all three kids. Draco wanted to come; he’s watching them now.”

            “Oh, is he? Even my precious granddaughter?” Lucius raised an eyebrow at that.

            “Yes, something has happened,” I said and proceeded to tell Lucius everything that had happened since returning to the mainland. Me taking Cissa with me, Draco’s collapse and subsequent memory loss, my lies, and Draco’s dreams.

            “Ah, the lion is sliding down a slippery slope, it seems,” Lucius said, steepling his fingers.

            “What I want to know is what you are going to do about it. I’m going to bring Draco into this room in a minute and you know the truth. Your mum seems to think you’d lie for me. Will you?” I asked.

            “You, no. My granddaughter, yes. Let’s be honest here,” he said amicably and I agreed. “I don’t particularly care for you dating my son, the way you’ve gone about it, or the fact that you fathered my granddaughter in the first place. Almost anyone else on that island would’ve been better in my book. But it has happened and your solution is better for my granddaughter’s wellbeing than reality, so I will go along with it.”

            “Thank you,” I said gratefully.

            “Yes, well I’m not doing it for you. Draco was never going to permanently disown his child. He was suffering from some sort of weird post-birth psychotic break. I don’t know what caused it, the surgery by an inexperienced midwife out in the middle of a war zone, the stress from the danger surrounding him, or the dragon spirits messing with his head. I didn’t see him during that time, but I know my son, and I can tell you it wasn’t the red hair. The red hair was just the thing that pushed him over the edge and set him off. I asked him for visitation, so that I could help you help my son. My mother suggested we’d start by employing hats to help him see past the hair color, but thanks to her talent, that won’t be necessary. His stay in hospital and subsequent memory loss just jumps us ahead in my plans.”

            I told him then about what Healer Smith had said about the postpartum depression and break from reality Draco was diagnosed with upon our return to the mainland. He was pleased that he was right and all the more adamant that Draco’s actions were not Draco’s fault.

            As for what he was going to do about, he said, “I think it is best for Draco’s mental health to let things continue as they are. The dreams about what really occurred disturb him, as they should, because that was not him. If anything is to be done or the cloth starts to unravel, I’d suggest a mind healer. If he were to learn the truth, he would also need to learn that he was mentally ill at the time, so that he is not made to feel guilty.”

            It seemed to me that Lucius was being a sly snake here. He was blaming our lies on Draco’s mental illness, claiming that we had to lie to Draco, for Draco’s own good. He also suggested that if he acted like the lie was true, then others would believe it, and it would become the truth. His version of reality worked well for me, although I hoped we never got that far. I dreaded a mind healer examining Draco and revealing the full truth; Draco’s father and grandmother might lie to him for Cissa’s sake, but I highly doubted a medical professional would.  
            With that settled, we agreed that we’d never had this meeting and I went to fetch Draco and the children. We had a lovely meeting with Lucius lavishing praise on his son and three lovely grandchildren, especially Cissa.

            “It is rather amazing you were able to succeed in making such a close copy of your mother, Draco,” Lucius said, holding the baby carefully and examining her delicate features.

            “Are you sure? I wasn’t so certain; Mother wasn’t a metamorphmagus and when Cissa’s hair is blond, it’s not the right shade of blond. It’s always my color blond, not Mother’s,” Draco replied.

            “Well that is to be expected, given that she is not in fact your mother, Draco. You and Harry are the parents, so the Dragon Spirits had to work within the confines of your genetic material. If neither of you have the correct hair color allele, then the dragon spirits would not be able to reproduce it, other than to make her a metamorphmagus,” Lucius explained.

            There was a bit of follow up, because neither Draco nor I were familiar with genetics. It wasn’t a subject taught at Hogwarts and Lucius had only just picked it up from reading a book given to him by his muggleborn counselor. It seemed he was making a study on children resulting from a dragon’s kiss and kept bordering on the subject. As part of his rehabilitation, he meets regularly with his counselor, who gives him reading material chosen to create an appreciation for muggles. The counselor realized Lucius’ interest in what the muggles term genetics and thus acquired several books on the subject; it seemed to be working, because Lucius hardly sneered at all when talking about the advances in genetics the muggles had made.

            “Draco, I’ve had a lot of time in here to very closely study genetics in relation to dragon kissed babies and there are a few things I need to tell you. Perhaps this isn’t the best time. How are you feeling? Do you think you could handle something a bit more complex?” Lucius asked kindly.

            “I feel fine. I little tired and a bit sore, because the stupid healers keep reducing my dose of pain potion…” Draco trailed off. We both knew that the healers wanted him off of that potion as soon as possible, because of the memory loss and the general confusion Draco had suffered while on it. Personally I would’ve left him on it longer in the hopes that it would keep the dreams of the truth at bay a little longer.

            “Good. As you know, I have a copy of the list of people who have been kissed by the dragon and the resulting children-” I cut Lucius off here.

            “How do you have a list? I thought that holy books lose their text when transported off of the island,” I interjected.

            “They do, because they are written in dragon’s blood, which fades when removed from a source of dragon magic. My copy was written in regular ink, ignoring the official rules of Dragon Mysticism. Malfoys aren’t for following protocol when it doesn’t suit us,” Lucius explained.

            “How are they getting dragon’s blood? Killing a dragon is illegal and taping one for blood is strictly regulated by the Ministry,” I said. Not that Lucius had broken the law, but if the rest of the cave yahoos were in violation, I wanted to know so that I could put a stop to it.

            “It’s not really blood of a dragon, it’s just called dragon’s blood,” Lucius drawled, giving the impression that this was common knowledge that anyone not raised in the muggle world would know. “It’s made from the roots of several plants on the island, with the addition of a mineral also found there. It’s rather simple to make.”

            “Right,” I said.

            “Please continue Father,” Draco said.

            “So I have the list and I’ve also obtain physical descriptions of a great number of witches and wizards on the list from a separate source. I was particularly interested in the instances of parthenogenesis, so I picked out all of the cases in which only one parent is listed,” Lucius continued, but I stopped him again.

            “I thought that when only one parent is listed, it means the other backed out and refused to claim responsibility for the child,” I said. That is what I’d been told by the MacBhàtairs.

            “A common misconception. If one parent renounces a child, their name still appears on the list. Every case where there is one parent is a case of parthenogenesis. It is not wildly known that the stories of parthenogenesis are true, because those who experience it often do not wish to report it. And those studying the highest levels of Dragon Mysticism do not readily share their acquired knowledge with those they consider unworthy,” Lucius explained.

            “Yes, the book I found the information about it in the first place is very old, very rare, and reserved only for those of us on the top tier. There are only a few copies and those are all highly guarded by the heads of the old families,” Draco drawled, shooting me an annoyed glance, which clearly said he was tired of my interruptions. “Well Father, what have you learned?”

            “In every case of parthenogenesis, the child is the same sex as the single parent. If the parent is a witch, the child is a girl. If the parent is a wizard, the child is a boy. The correlation is one hundred percent, so I believe there is no chance of you having a female child by yourself, Draco,” Lucius said.

            “So reincarnating Mother couldn’t happen without a partner?” Draco asked. His tone sounded spacey, like he was deep in thought.

            “No, I am afraid not,” Lucius replied.

            “Then it’s a good thing that Harry came along,” Draco concluded, sneaking a shy glance at me and then blushing.

            “Yes, it is,” Lucius agreed.

            “Wait, you don’t really believe your mum has been reincarnated into our daughter, do you?” I asked Draco. I know he said that was what he wanted, but when he said it, he’d also said it hadn’t worked and Cissa’s hair was too red for her to be his mother.

            Lucius shot me a scathing look, as if to order me to shut up. I got the impression he wanted me to go along with Draco’s delusion.

            “Yes, do you not see it?” Draco asked me curiously, as if it was obvious.

            “I see a striking resemblance, that’s true,” I admitted.

            “Potter is just unfamiliar with our religious beliefs. You have to understand how odd this must be for him, being thrust so suddenly into our culture,” Lucius said and I agreed. I was thankful he’d gotten me out of the hot seat, because I was beginning to realize that Narcissa being reincarnated inside Cissa was important to Draco accepting our daughter, whether it was true or not.

            “Fa _ther_!” Broderick practically screamed, pulling on Draco’s robes with one hand and cupping his crotch with the other. He’d been tugging on Draco and trying to get his father’s attention without success for over a minute now.

            “Yes Broderick. What is it?” Draco asked, finally looking down at his son.

            “I hafta peeeee.”

            “Oh, alright. Roadrick, what about you?” Draco asked, handing Cissa over to me.

            Roadrick nodded, so I asked one of the guards in the hall to escort Draco and the twins to the loo. That gave me the perfect chance to talk to Lucius alone. Well Cissa was still with us, but she was a newborn and wouldn’t tell.

            “I got the impression there was something you were trying to tell me about the reincarnation thing that I wasn’t sure if I got entirely,” I said.

            “What you have to understand, Potter, is that my son hasn’t been entirely stable since losing his mother. Narcissa was a wonderful person and Draco was everything to her. She loved him as much as any mother can ever love a child. When she died, he went searching to fill that void. He turned to our religion and its increased fertility, with a particular interest in the rarely known parthenogenesis side, because he didn’t have a romantic interest. Left on his own, I didn’t see any harm in letting him foster a new heir for me. I’m fairly certain that my grandsons have the exact same genetic makeup as my son, as if the three of them were triplets made from the same exact embryo. I don’t have enough evidence to prove that that is how the parthenogenesis works, but I have two cases and I think I’m right. And if I _am_ right, then my grandsons are basically my sons.”

            “I wasn’t around Draco when he was three. Is there anything is particular about Draco that you see in them? Something that convinces you? Or in the other case you have?”

            “The other case is a red headed curly haired teenage witch with blue eyes who grew up on the island. The child is absolutely identical, down to the freckles. With Draco, the fact that they were twins was the first give away, but they also both have his same personality, as well as all of his features.”

            “What about them being twins?”

            “Draco was a twin, originally. My Cissy had a very rough pregnancy and the twins were premature. She was due August first, but they were born June fifth, two months early. We lost one son; the other, Draco, lived. We would have spoiled him rotten anyway, as our only son, but we spoiled him just a bit more because he was our miracle baby.”

            “I didn’t know…” I said sadly.

            “Broderick and Roadrick are the twins my Cissy and I never got to have. They are both Malfoy names, did you know? I had a set of great uncles who were also twins with those names. They were the younger brothers of my grandfather.”

            “I didn’t know that either.”

            “So I encouraged him with having the twins and I didn’t know for sure then that a female child wasn’t possible. It was my research while in here that turned up the old story on reincarnation. It was about a couple whose child was the reincarnation of one of the grandfathers. I wasn’t sure how true it was and to what level the child was the grandparent. Obviously the twins are Draco genetically, but they don’t have his memory and his experiences. The muggles say that our memories and experiences combine with our environment to make each of us different, even identical twins. Even if the dragon spirit was able to exactly recreate my wife’s genetic makeup in my granddaughter, the child would still not be my Cissy. But, given that Cissa has fifty percent your genetic makeup and you are not closely related to my Cissy, it is impossible for Cissa to have the exact same makeup. Maybe the Dragon Spirit was able to pick and choose between your genes, making her as close as possible. But with the hair, you simply didn’t have a blond allele, so she was stuck with the red-haired one. The muggles say that we all only have two alleles for hair color. You gave Cissa her red hair, which means you must have an allele for red hair hidden underneath your allele for black hair. Red was closer than black, so the dragon spirit went with it, not knowing what trouble it would cause.”

            “So you don’t literally believe the soul of your late wife is in my daughter?”

            “No, I don’t, but Draco might. If he does, I urge you not to contradict him. The number one thing keeping him from rejecting that child again is that he thinks she is his mother. Let him keep thinking that, building the parental bond. Once it is set in stone, then things like her true hair color can be revealed,” Lucius said, sounding reasonable. I could let Draco have his delusion.

            Draco and the twins came back soon after and Lucius and I cut off our conversation abruptly. I wasn’t so smooth with the transition, but Lucius launched instantly into cooing at Cissa, asking me if he could hold her. Draco raised his eyebrow at me, whether to ask if I was willing to pass my daughter to his Death Eater father or if to indicate his suspicion regarding our conversation, I didn’t know. I played it safe and handed over the baby.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So there we have the final bit as to how the twins are possible: they really are identical to Draco. As to the exact method of embryonic stem cell regeneration, let’s chalk it up to Dragon magic.  
> Draco here is inspired by my sister. As unbelievable as it may sound, my sister will overlook pretty much anything if a man buys her a teddy bear and a box of perfume. This includes cracking her skull, cheating on her with his wife, and going to prison for a parole violation for three years. The parole violation was having a knife when she called the cops on him and the original sentence was for beating his wife. It didn’t seem to matter how many times we told her she was being ridiculously stupid, if he bought her something, then all was forgiven.  
> That’s where I got the idea for Harry bribing Draco with gifts, but I don’t plan on taking it as far as things got with my sister.  
> What do you think of Lucius? He’s certainly put his time to good use in Azkaban.  
> Please Review!


	22. Chapter22

            The next day Draco’s friends Greg and Tracy Goyle came over to help Iona with the children, while I went shopping. Tracey and Greg were nice enough, although he was just as dumb as ever and his wife was equally stupid.

            My first stop was to the florist, where I special ordered a bouquet composed precisely of Draco’s favorite flowers, with a few white roses in to balance the arrangement and fill it out. He’d loved the last bouquet, which was just a quick approximation, so hopefully he’d like the real thing even more. Our tentative relationship was going surprisingly well. We didn’t talk much, except when it came to the children and our schedules, but he let me into his bed each night to cuddle and really seemed to appreciate his gifts. He even counted the visit with Lucius as a gift, saving me from actually having to come up with something yesterday.

            The flowers would take a week to come in, so in the meantime, I needed half a dozen other gifts. I’d discovered that he was out of his favorite toiletries, having gone without while trapped on the island. He’d been making do with cleaning charms, water, and bar soap, when he was the type who enjoyed luxury. Thus my next stop was to a bath store. While I was there, I saw a nice semi-masculine looking gift basket filled with bath salts and various other things whose purpose I didn’t know. I would need plenty of gifts if my plan to distract him with material possessions was to work, so I bought the gift basket and two each of his usual toiletry items.

            The next shop over had a pair of slippers in the window that looked a lot like Draco’s slippers, only new. One of the few things he’d told me was that he’d been living alone in that cave since he got pregnant with the twins. Sure he’d come back to the mainland to visit his friends and family, but he was mostly a recluse. That explained why all of his stuff was looking so worn, when he’d only been trapped on the island for a year: he’d been on the island for four years, sending the house elves out to get things. Thus he had dozens of worn out things that needed replacing, such as his slippers. I bought the slippers and a dragon wind chime at that store; the wind chime just because the flames spewing out of the black mouths were cool and it reminded me of him and the dragon reserve where I’d fallen for him.

            After that was the clothing store, where I got lost in the baby girl section, looking at all of the adorable things I could buy for Cissa. She had plenty of red and blue hand-me-downs from the twins, but they were all little boy things. She had a pile of girly hand-me-downs from the Weasleys and a pile of designer girly things from Iona. But being a newborn, she went through her clothes quickly and I couldn’t resist buying a few more girly things, especially bibs and undershirts, which always went the quickest. Draco really liked the dress the Weasleys had bought her, so I found another poufy dress in the same vein and hoped it would be alright.

            Then I went to the little boys section and picked up a set of dress robes that were similar to the ones the twins had worn to see Lucius, but in one size larger. I was sure these were cheaper than the other set, because those were custom ordered, while these were off the shelf, but I hated waiting for clothes and it was too much work bringing children in for a fitting. I much preferred buying clothes off of the rack and I hoped Draco wouldn’t mind.

            I did order one tailored item, which was another set of dress robes for me. I needed at least two sets to alternate, if I was serious about dating Draco. We hadn’t gone out anywhere but the Ministry so far, but that was because we had a newborn. Hopefully sometime soon he would feel up to a real date and then I’d need something else to wear. Robes took time to make, so I might as well order them now while I was in the store.

            My next stop was to the sweets store, where I purchased a box of caramel pecan clusters, which according to Iona, were Draco’s favorite. Then my last stop was to the farmer’s market, where I purchased strawberries and caramel sauce for tonight’s treat.

            After that I returned to Malfoy Manor, where I dropped my purchases off. Tracey and Greg were preparing to leave, so I quickly apparated to Andy’s house to pick up Teddy, who had just gotten out of school. Teddy and I flooed back to the Manor in time to see the backs of the Goyles, good riddens; Merlin help any children the two of them have, because if the parents were anything to go by, the children would be mentally retarded.

            Shortly after I returned with Teddy, an owl from my boss, Head Auror Robards, arrived. He wanted me to come in for a chat, and I would’ve cut my shopping short and done so right away, if I’d gotten the owl earlier. I couldn’t leave Iona alone with the children and I wouldn’t brush Teddy off, by sending him straight back home, like that. Draco was doing a little better, but I didn’t think he was up watching his own three children and certainly not a fourth. Robards would have to wait and I told him as much in a return owl.

            I spent the afternoon focusing on the children, helping Teddy with his homework and speech exercises, painting with the twins, and changing Cissa’s poopy nappy. I presented Draco with the strawberries and caramel after dinner. He shared with the children, but he had a sweet tooth, so he ate plenty of them himself. I took one, but what I most enjoyed about them was watching Draco eat them. The way he licked the caramel and his eyes rolled back in delight made me wish he was in fit condition for sex and that we would be having it tonight, but it was way too soon for that.

            After dinner the twins started fighting over Cissa again, with Roadrick insisting that she was his sister, because she had red hair again and that Broderick could have the blue haired Teddy.

            “Ciss red, Ciss Roadie’s,” Roadrick insisted for the millionth time.

            “Ciss bue too! Ciss Brodie’s too!” Broderick countered, also for the millionth time.

            “Do red Ciss, do red,” Roadrick said, turning to the baby, who was sitting between them in her bouncer seat.

            “Do bue Ciss, _bue_ ,” Broderick insisted.

            “Red,” Roadrick said, holding out his red shirt.

            “Bue,” Broderick said, holding out his blue shirt.

            “That’s it: I’m buying all new clothes; white for the both of you,” Draco interjected, tired of the arguing. “Harry, I’ve had enough. I’ll be in my drawing room.” I agreed to watch the children for a few minutes and he left the room.

            Either the twins didn’t care about the threat, or they didn’t understand it, because they kept right on. “Teddy come,” Roadrick said, motioning the older boy over with both hands. Teddy came. “Make red _er’yt’ing_.”

            “Like thith?” Teddy asked, turning his entire head red, from his hair, to his eyes, to the color of his skin. It looked almost comical it was so creepy.

            “Yay! Ciss, do like Teddy,” Roadrick requested.

            “Teddy, make bue now!” Broderick ordered.

            Teddy did as commanded and turned a vibrant shade of blue, from his hair, to his eyes, to the color of his skin. Now he looked like he was suffocating.

            The twins kept arguing for several more minutes, making Teddy turn back and forth between blue and red. Cissa sat quietly in her bouncer watching the show with the occasional squeal or fussing noise, but then all three boys started shouting. “She do it!” “She do it!” “Thee did it!”

            Sure enough, my daughter had made her hair and eyes both red and blue; a pair of vibrant violet eyes stared back at me from underneath a bit of purple fringe. Her hair had gone every color imaginable so far, so why not purple? As for her eyes, this was the first time they were clearly metamorphosed. I’d thought they were settling on bright blue and there was some speculation they were on their way to green, but not purple. At least her skin hadn’t changed color.

            “Draco, come see,” I called.

            Draco came quickly. “Purple? You two seriously turned your newborn sister purple. I hope you’re proud of yourselves, because I was just writing an order for white new clothes,” he said.

            “Draco, don’t do that; you’ll spoil the children’s fun. Teddy and Cissa are metamorphmagi and it’s natural for them to change their appearance. She’ll change back,” I said.

            “Yes, but she’s hardly ever blond and I’m absolutely sick of the weird colors, like red. The twins need new clothes and I was going to order Roadrick green this time, but if this is what happens, then the baby’s hair will be green all the time,” Draco replied.

            It wasn’t really fair to Roadrick to lose his color designation because his sister had red hair and his father didn’t know it, but I kept my mouth shut. It was even less fair for his sister to lose her father because she had red hair and her father did know it.

            “Geen! No Father, I not Gendrick Geen Guy’ant, I red Roooad-drick. See red?” Roadrick asked, pulling out his red shirt. The twins had a children’s book called Gendrick the Gentle Green Giant that didn’t seem too far off from Hagrid, which was obviously what Roadrick was referring too.

            “Then stop turning your sister red and start encouraging her to have blond hair, like you and me,” Draco replied.

            “Bond? No Ciss red,” Roadrick replied, lower lip pouting out, as if he were about to cry. Why was it that young children always tell what you want hidden most?

            “No, Cissa was a blond before she started changing her hair color, wasn’t she Harry?” Draco asked me.

            “Yes, she was blond before the weird hair colors started, like the blue,” I confirmed. It was true enough; blond was the very first color she’d changed to from her natural strawberry blond. It was getting late and I was sick of the arguing, especially because Roadrick was borderline telling on me, so I decided a change in activity was in order. “Let’s read a story; it’s almost time for Teddy to go home.”

            I read the children a story and then took Teddy home just before bedtime so that he could go to school the next morning. After the Tonks family home, I made the promised stop by the Ministry, responding to Robards’ summons. It was late, but with the planning of a major mission, he was still in his office.

            “Ah Harry, I’m glad you came. Take a seat,” Robards said motioning to the seat in front of his desk. I sat. “Now what is this I hear about you putting in for another request to have Lucius in here for questioning?”

            Well that wasn’t what I thought he’d want to talk about; I’d assumed he needed my help with the island layout or the terrorists. I now realized that I was in trouble with the boss.

            “I sort of made an arrangement with Draco Malfoy that I would take our daughter to see his father once a week,” I admitted.

            Well Draco didn’t remember the agreement, but Lucius and Iona did. And if I wanted the elder Malfoys to go along with my schemes, then I needed to honor our agreement.

            “See, this is going to be a problem Harry. I can’t have you having Lucius Malfoy transported here and kept around in our interrogation rooms all day, so that you can play family.”

            “I’m sorry sir, but there really is no way for me to get out of this bargain I struck. I _need_ regular access to Lucius.”

            “How serious is this need we’re talking about?”

            “Extremely serious, sir.”

            “Well then, Harry, I can see only one solution to your problem. You need to have Lucius Malfoy transferred to the Ministry Jail.”

            “The jail? But that’s low security? It’s for small time offenders serving short sentences,” I protested. It was also conveniently located in London and much more accessible in terms of family visitation.

            “It’s certainly a good thing Malfoy has been a model prisoner, isn’t it?”

            “Yes, but I don’t have the authority to have him moved.”

            “The wizengamot does. Set a date for a reduced sentencing hearing. Get them to lessen his sentence and lower his security clearance. If you need help, get one of the Malfoys to hire a lawyer.”

            That settled things as far as Robards was concerned. It was getting late, so I returned to Malfoy Manor. Draco already had the twins asleep in bed and was giving Cissa one last bottle before bedtime.

            I waited until we were climbing in bed together to tell him my news.

            “Honestly? My father?” Draco asked, a smile spreading over his face.

            “Yes, honestly. I’m not entirely sure how to arrange it, but if Robards suggested it, it can be done,” I confirmed.

            “Thank you so much, Harry. I never imagined you could be so wonderful; not to me.”

            “You’re welcome,” I said, placing a chaste kiss on his cheek. “Now get to sleep; we’ll discuss a lawyer in the morning.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I went to the dentist today and had my 3 front teeth prepared for crowns. It’s rather painful and now I’m lisping like Teddy, so I recommend brushing your teeth and whatnot.
> 
> What do you think of Robards’ solution? Should Lucius be moved to a less secure location?  
> Up next, I think I’ll invite Hermione over to meet the children. There’s no way she’ll be okay with Harry’s lies :)


	23. Chapter23

            The next day, with only three children, didn’t go nearly so smoothly. Having Teddy around had made the task fun, while without him it was sort of a letdown. And the twins weren’t picking up the slack, instead acting whinier and more annoying than normal, because Draco was giving them less attention than usual. They were used to having Draco to themselves, but had been sharing him with Cissa all week since our return to the mainland. And now Draco was too preoccupied with thoughts of his father’s potential transfer to give them the attention he normally spared for them. As far as I knew, it was unheard of, but Draco actually ignored them and their demands for attention.

            Draco spent the morning busy in discussion with Iona, focusing primarily on the hiring of an attorney. The Malfoys had had a number of them over the years, including the traditional one Iona had always used back in her day. But given that Lucius had been locked away in Azkaban for life, neither Draco nor Iona were happy with any of the usual lot. Instead they wanted to analyze in depth a dozen potential choices. I tried to contribute, but I hate lawyers and found the subject tedious, so spent most of my morning watching the children.

            By lunch time, I was going out of my mind. The legal talk was killing me and the twins were annoying me. I wasn’t used to being home from work this long, I hadn’t yet gotten into a groove with Draco, and I didn’t know what to do with myself or the children. And then it became apparent that he and his grandmother planned on spending the afternoon inviting lawyers over to talk about the case, which by that point, was about the last thing I wanted to do. Thus I asked him to let me invite Hermione over.

            Hermione came with some educational books she’d just bought for the twins. She thought they’d like them and that would keep the boys entertained. Where she miscalculated was the educational level they were at; given that they were trapped on an island without preschool, she’d aimed low. She hadn’t known that before the anti-apparition ward was set, Draco had paid for a tutor to come five days a week and had tried to keep up with the lessons plans in the tutor’s absence. Not only did Broderick and Roadrick already know their ABCs and 123s, they could count and write their letters. If I had known she was going to stop by the store and buy them, I would’ve told her they were an advanced three, but she surprised us with them and small packs of crayons.

            Broderick took one look at the workbook page he’d been given on writing the letter A, tore it out, and shouted, “No!”

            This being Hermione’s first time with the sometimes terrible two, she blinked, taken aback, but was too stunned to do anything.

            “This for baby,” Roadrick added, standing up with his. “Here red Cissa, you have mine.” He thrust the workbook into my lap and I narrowly avoided him shoving it in the baby’s face, by raising her up out of the way, since she was in my arms.

            Roadrick seemed to be implying that since Cissa had red hair, it was his old things she should have. This was the first time he’d put the color before her name though, and if truth be told, I was more concerned about that than the blatant rudeness towards my best friend that Broderick had shown.

            “Baby!” Broderick screamed, as he began to run around the room. He was clearly anticipating the usual punishment that would come from such bad behavior and aimed to outrun us.

            “Roadrick, Cissa isn’t red, she’s aqua, see,” I said, motioning with one hand towards the tuffs of hair on my daughter’s head. I made sure not to use the word blue, since that would only instigate the usual red versus blue bickering.

            “Awa?” Roadrick asked, narrowing his eyes in skepticism, before the tantrum came on, likely exacerbated by his brother’s continued shouting. “No, no, no!” He threw his own workbook on the floor and joined in the chaotic running about the room. At least he didn’t rip the page out.

            Broderick’s words were difficult to understand, but I eventually deciphered them, due to repetition. “No work! Play! No work! Play!” and on and on he went.

            “Harry, what are we supposed to do?” Hermione asked, looking to me for answers. She’d never met the twins before, after all, and I had experience with their fits.

            “Er, perhaps I should’ve mentioned this, Hermione, but they have on occasion thrown fits over doing their schoolwork for Draco.” I left out that they hadn’t been in the best of moods this morning, since I hadn’t warned Hermione prior to coming. In my defense, I was too busy trying not to pull my hair out at the time to think to warn her.

            Hermione narrowed her eyes and asked, “And what does he _do_ about it?”

            I shrugged. “Let me think. Well it hasn’t happened in months,” I hastened to explain. “Or if it has, I haven’t exactly been around for it. He hasn’t been making them do schoolwork since he let me back in the cave. He was preoccupied with having the baby.”

            “Red! Red! Red!” Roadrick shouted as he ran around the room, counter-direction to his twin.

            “No work! Play! Blue!” Broderick shouted, adding in his color somewhat randomly to the mix. Blue was his usual retort to Roadrick’s shouts of red.

            “Harry, do something!” Hermione shouted over the din.

            “What?” I asked, standing up, Cissa still in my arms. I would have thought she’d be upset by the noise, but she was evidentially used to it. She seemed to like it, if the way she was now changing her hair color back and forth between blue and red was anything to go by. Maybe she recognized the sound from being in Draco’s womb all these months or maybe she just liked the racket.

            “I don’t know, anything.”

            “Here, you take the baby.” I thrust Cissa into Hermione’s arms, which did start her crying.

            Before I could think of anything to do, a house elf appeared with a loud crack. An instant passed before the twins froze in their tracks, looking to the elf and creating a silence in the room, filled only by Cissa’s cries. A finger crooked into Roadrick’s mouth and a look of fear crept onto Broderick’s face. If Draco was coming, they’d both be in trouble.

            “Masters is asking Lifton what all of the noise is about. Lifton is saying he will see.”

            “Lifton! Where’s Sotty?” I asked eagerly, it suddenly occurring to me that the female elf might know what to do. In hindsight, she probably wouldn’t have, given the number of tantrums I’d witnessed on her watch.

            “Sotty be visiting Connie, sir. Connie is Sotty’s sister, sir. Master Draco is saying Sotty could, sir.” Lifton’s voice quivered as if he were the one in trouble and anticipating Draco’s rage himself.

            “Oh, yeah,” I said, remembering.

            Sotty hadn’t been able to see her sister, due to the anti-apparition ward on the island. Connie had been traded for Lifton and was married to his brother, an arrangement the Malfoy elves all said they were happy with. Draco had okayed the visit two days ago and the elf had been gone since yesterday. She would come back early if Draco asked her too, but he likely wasn’t aware that there was a problem. If things didn’t calm down soon, I’d have to inform him and have her summoned home.

            “Father coming?” Roadrick asked, although it was hard to tell that was what he asked, since his finger was still in his mouth.

            “Broderick ‘having!” Broderick exclaimed, sitting on the spot, crossing his legs and clasping his hands together.

            “Roadrick ‘having more!” Roadrick added, stepping over to his brother slyly, and copying the position.

            “Ssh, it’s alright baby, Auntie Hermione has you,” Hermione cooed at Cissa.

            “Erm, here, hand her back,” I offered, retrieving my daughter. She quieted down the second she was in my arms and her hair changed to purple, as if she was the one who was about to be in trouble.

            The silence was deafening then, with Lifton’s gaze flickering from one of us to the next, scrutinizing us each as if his life depended on it. “Master Draco be sending Lifton to see, sir,” he finally said.

            “Father will be coming if I tell him you’re not behaving,” I warned, to which both boys shook their blond heads vigorously, but silently. Roadrick looked down, but Broderick caught my eye and I could see a tear crawl down his cheek.

            “Is Draco _that_ scary?” Hermione asked.

            “No, he’s not, but for the _love of Merlin, don’t tell them that_ ,” I said under my breath, before speaking out loud to the elf. I’d yet to see corporal punishment used, with Draco clearly favoring the timeout. “Lifton, tell Draco sorry and that everything is fine.”

            Lifton nodded, before apparating away with another loud crack. Broderick was sobbing now, his tears pouring down his face. I sat back on the sofa with Cissa, held out my free arm, and said, “Come here, Brodie.”

            Broderick was up and running into my arm before I could blink. He was slight, but he still knocked me back with surprise.

            “Hwarry?” Roadrick asked with a sob, crying now too.

            It was at moments like this that I wished I had three arms. “Come here too,” I answered.

            Roadrick clambered into my other side, but mercifully sunk into Hermione’s arms when she sat next to me and offered. “It’s like having a little Draco,” she said. “In more ways than one.”

            “Two little Draco’s,” I confirmed. Not only did they look like him, they had his temperament.

            “Are they always like this?” Hermione asked.

            “Only when they can get away with it.” I shrugged. “They’re more likely to behave if Draco’s in the room.”

            “Broderick ‘having,” Broderick offered.

            “Roadrick more,” Roadrick added.

            “Of course you are,” I replied, wiping tears away from one little face; Hermione wiped tears away from the other.

            “Well what are we going to do now?” Hermione asked.

            “Brodie cower bue,” Broderick offered, pointing to where his workbook lay crumped on the floor. He’d apparently do anything to avoid a timeout.

            “Roadie _not_ cower red. Roadie play train,” Roadrick countered. He wasn’t the one who would be in the most trouble, so he could afford to be stubborn.

            “Brodie play train too?” Broderick asked hopefully.

            “Yes, Roadie and Brodie can show Hermione their trains,” I suggested.

            “Yay!” Roadrick cried, jumping up from Hermione’s arms to fetch his train. Broderick followed more subduedly after.

            The rest of the afternoon went more smoothly, but I was still glad when it was over and the twins went down for their afternoon nap.

            Hermione wiped her frazzled brow in mental exhaustion. “Whew, that was harder than I thought it’d be,” she said.

            “Teddy was never so much work,” I agreed. Teddy had always been a good-natured easy-going child. It’d never even occurred to him to try to be half as demanding as one of Draco’s boys and there was only one of him, while there were two of them. I got the impression from the Manor’s paintings that Draco had been of a similarly high-maintenance as a child.

            Hermione and I retired to one of the many sitting rooms and spoke, in between fawning over Cissa. Although, Cissa too seemed tuckered out from the troublesome duo and promptly closed her eyes in a nap of her own. That left Hermione free to speak her mind without fear of being overheard. Inviting her over probably wasn’t the best idea, because she never could hold her tongue. I’d been counting on the fact that we weren’t alone to keep her quiet, but now we were alone; Draco and Iona were still on the other side of the house interviewing lawyers and all three children were asleep.

            My best friend knew everything about me, including the fact that I hadn’t been dating Draco before Cissa’s birth and that Draco had practically disowned Cissa when he realized she had red hair. She also knew Draco had temporary amnesia and that she wasn’t to mention anything having to do with that period of our lives in front of him, but he wasn’t here now. She had an outstanding moral compass and I could tell keeping her mouth shut was a strain for her.

            I decided to diffuse the Hermione time bomb by taking the bull by the horns. “We need to make sure we’re not overheard,” I explained, before casting every silencing and privacy spell I knew.

            “So Draco still hasn’t remembered? Not any of it?” she asked.

            “Well, little bits in his dreams, but it really upsets him, so I tell him it’s not real and just a dream.”

            “Harry! You can’t do that! You _have_ to tell him!” She had that determined look she gets, which wasn’t a good sign for me.

            “No, Hermione, I don’t. The truth is the worst thing for everyone involved.”

            “Are you sure? Or are you saying that because of the way he’s cozying up to you!” she accused. I hadn’t mentioned the fact that we were dating, because she would flip. I could only hope Draco wouldn’t mention it.

            “Look, I admit, I’ve been trying to get him to warm up to me, but this isn’t just for me. This is for Cissa, Draco, and even the twins! If I’d told Draco the truth, he’d probably have disowned our daughter again, which is not in her best interest. Everyone, even his grandmum and his dad, told me to keep him in the dark,” I insisted. “Once he can see past her hair, then it’ll be safe to tell him. Establishing a healthy relationship between them is best for everyone. Even the twins were upset with things the way they were, because Draco was keeping them away from their sister.”

            “Alright, but once he loves that baby, then you _have_ to tell him, Harry.” I sighed in defeat, but didn’t respond otherwise, not wanting to agree and not knowing how to get out of this. “What happened to the Harry Potter who earned second place in the second challenge of the Twiwizard tournament for, ‘Moral fiber?’”

            “Look, can we talk about this later? I don’t know how things are going to go with him. He hasn’t been the most stable of people mentally and his own family thinks it’s best for him if I never tell him. His dad said that ever since his mum died, he’s been lost. Lucius specifically said to let Draco have his delusions, especially if harmless.”

            “Well…I don’t know…It doesn’t seem right.”

            “I know, but sometimes lying is the right thing to do. Besides, what if it wasn’t Draco who said those things?”

            “What do you mean not Draco? Who else could’ve said them?”

            “Lucius seems to think that Draco couldn’t have been in his right mind at the time. That was why Lucius said he was so insistent on arranging visitation with his granddaughter, so that he could speak to me and make me see that something was really wrong with his son. Healer Smith said something about Draco having a, ‘Break with reality,’ as he put it.”

            It was then that I remembered that Smith wanted to be notified of all irrational behavior and I paused to think about it more carefully. First off, I didn’t want to hint to Hermione that I may in fact be keeping something from Draco’s healer, because she would urge me to error on the side of spilling my guts. Secondly, I wasn’t sure if his religious behavior counted as irrational. Typically exceptions are made for religious beliefs in terms of rationality and the re-incarnation was the only illogical thing he’d mentioned. He hadn’t said anything about wanting to return to the island during a serious military conflict, which made me think that I was overreacting and that the re-incarnation thing didn’t count.

            “A psychotic break is a serious disorder, Harry! Why isn’t he seeing a mind healer?” Hermione asked.

            “He was treated for it. They said he was back in the normal range, but to watch him.”

            “I’m glad they fixed it. It must be awful to know something is wrong with your only child and not be able to do anything about it. And with Narcissa gone too…”

            “Yeah, well don’t go feeling sorry for Lucius now Hermione; he deserves the time he got.”

            “Yes, I know, but Draco doesn’t deserve to have lost almost his entire family.”

            “He doesn’t,” I agreed and then proceeded to tell her all about Lucius’ little research project, which had her ears perking up. I swear she would get herself locked in Azkaban if it meant access to unlimited research materials and no distractions from them.

            “I’ll have to pay Lucius a visit! We have to publish this; it’s groundbreaking!” she proclaimed.

            “One, Draco’s not ready to go public with the whole male pregnancy and especially not the parthenogenesis thing and two, I don’t know if he ever will be. And three, even if he was, it’s against their religion to tell and he seems rather devout,” I said, bursting her bubble.

            I calmed Hermione down and changed the subject to something a little less risky: the Weasley family. She caught me up on everything I’d missed in the lives of the Weasley clan. Being married to Ron, she was officially a Weasley now, so she knew all of the dirt.

            The biggest surprise was when she told me that she and Ron had decided to start trying for a baby. They’d been married for years now and I’d known it was coming soon. Before when I’d been single and childless, I’d felt like the odd man out when I thought of my two best friends starting a family together. But now that I had a daughter of my own, a boyfriend, and three boys who were all sort of mine, I was pleased by the news. Cissa had just missed the Hogwarts deadline, so if Hermione and Ron hurried, their first born might just be in the same year as mine, like we’d always planned. Only before when we’d agreed, I didn’t think I’d actually ever have a baby. After all, not only was I gay, I was long-term relationship challenged.

            Hermione left at five, to meet Ron, who’d be home from work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter Draco will have a checkup at St. Mungo’s and get his first non-dream clue to Harry’s lies. It will also be his first chance to talk about it with someone who isn’t in on it. Obviously it will all need to be revealed eventually, but I haven’t decided yet just how soon that should happen. It’s still rather early. One of the big questions though, is how Draco should react. He comes from a family where lying and manipulation are okay; if not completely, then at least in certain situations. And his own closest family have given Harry the okay to lie to him. I can see him being upset, but I'm not sure it would be a huge deal to him. I also think the results may vary based on how the relationship is going, because if someone is in love with a person, they are willing to overlook a lot more than when they are angry with them.


	24. Chapter24

Friday Draco was due back at St. Mungo’s for a checkup. It’d been a week since his release and he finished the last of his pain potion the morning before, so they wanted him back to make sure everything was healing nicely and that he wasn’t in pain.   
Draco wasn’t in that much pain, but was concerned about the fact that he still couldn’t remember the missing time. He hadn’t had any trouble with memories from after the surgery, but there was a period of about a week and a half he couldn’t remember and that irritated him. He’d been asking me for details on our relationship. I told him that we did talk a bit during the missing week before Cissa’s birth, which was how I knew all of the things he liked, leaving out the fact that his sneaky grandmother was passing me hints left and right. Still I didn’t know as much about him as I might and I got nervous last night when asked and started inventing stuff. I actually claimed that we hadn’t talked more, because we were too busy fucking every night up until our daughter’s birth. At that he’d subconsciously grabbed his arse, blushed, and clammed up, not questioning me further.  
What I was most worried about with the appointment was his memory. What if the healers had some potion that would restore it? What if they recommended mind healing? What if they used legilimency on him and found out I’d lied to him? Or what if an observant nurse or healer started questioning me? There were any number of ways I could be tripped up and or be found out, all of which I was weary of.  
Even so, Draco had to go, so we got dressed, packed up Cissa, and went, leaving the twins behind with Iona. We had been told to bring the baby with us, for something called a one week checkup. Her stools were still loose, but the healer had said that was normal and the gas had gotten better after being switched to human milk, so I wasn’t worried about her as we flooed over to St. Mungo’s.  
We had to wait to be seen and were getting strange looks. One pregnant witch actually asked us if we’d adopted our baby. I looked at her like she was crazy, but Draco had informed her that we’d used a surrogate. “Harry, you need to keep in mind that male pregnancy isn’t even known out on the Hebrides Islands. It’s virtually unheard of here on the mainland. It will be easier for everyone involved if you let them think we used a surrogate,” Draco whispered into my ear.  
“Whose…you know, did we use?” I asked curiously.  
“Mine. She’s the spitting image of my mother, so it’ll have to be mine. The similarity to my side is far stronger,” he insisted.  
It wasn’t long before we were called back to see Healer Smith again. He started with examining Cissa, who he said was in perfect health. Then he moved onto Draco, who was still a little tender when prodded. Smith said that was within normal range, but not ideal. Then Smith cast a number of diagnostic spells, ensuring that Draco’s hormone and brain function levels were within normal range. They were and everything looked good. Finally Smith asked, “Has anyone noticed any irrational or unusual behavior on Draco’s part?”  
“Does religion count?” I asked hesitantly and Draco glared at me for asking such a thing.  
“No, definitely not,” Smith answered.  
“Then no, nothing,” I replied.  
“Good. Come back and see me in two weeks if you’re not completely recovered and no sex until the tenderness is gone,” Smith concluded.  
“Um, what about my memory?” Draco asked, blushing at the sex comment. I certainly hoped we’d have sex again soon, but I wasn’t confident in our relationship enough to push the issue.  
“Let me check your chart,” Smith said, flipping pages in Draco’s chart before stopping to read a section. “It says here that you were missing a ten day period from just prior to being admitted. You didn’t remember the birth of the baby or leaving the island.”  
“That’s correct,” Draco confirmed.  
“And do you still not remember it? Not even vague flashes?”  
“No…not really,” Draco replied.  
“He’s been having nightmares, imaging the worst, because he can’t remember,” I put in, before they could put two and two together.  
“Well let me send you over to see a mind healer before you go. We have one reserved for emergency evaluations, so it shouldn’t take long to get you in. A few hours or so,” Smith said.  
We were sent over to the emergency ward to arrange an appointment with the mind healer, who had a slot free after lunch. It was a lovely September day and there was a muggle park nearby that was famous for its flowers, so I suggested taking Cissa for a walk. That went well, all three of us enjoying the sunshine and fresh breeze. The baby started crying, so we stopped at a bench to feed and change her.   
Then Cissa fell asleep, so Draco strapped her back into the pram. He lingered to look at a small stain on the purple cloth covering the seat. Then he looked down at the worn wheels and the bit of rust on the metal frame. “Harry, where did this pram come from?” he asked. “I don’t remember it from before that day when you took me home from hospital. I thought before that you bought it, but it doesn’t look new.”  
“It’s not. It was the one Bill and Fleur used for their daughters Victoire and Dominique. Their new baby was a boy, so they bought a blue set and past this one on to me. Do you mind?”  
“Did I mind before?” Draco asked confused.  
“Actually, you never saw it before. They didn’t give it to me until the night you were taken ill. Remember that I’d taken Cissa to my house, while you stayed at your house with the twins?”  
“Because I was worried Cissa would catch what I was coming down with?” he asked.  
“Yes. Well that night the Weasleys put together a coming home party for us, but you were too sick to go, so I went alone with Cissa. That’s when they gave me everything, like the pram.”  
“Oh, okay.”  
“So do you mind now that you know?”  
“A bit, because I don’t know where it’s been or what could be on it. In all of those years, I’m sure her children spilled who knows what on it and I have no idea what sort of cleaner she used.” He left the implications that the cleaner might be unsafe for babies unsaid. The Weasleys were careful, but there were plenty in the Wizarding World who didn’t care what they used, as long as it got the stains out.  
“It’s passed Molly Weasley’s inspection, so I’m sure it’s alright.”  
He shrugged and let the subject drop, although I could tell that he would’ve been happier with a new pram. If that was the cost of his happiness, I just might buy him one. I could afford to splurge a little.  
Draco interrupted my musing on pram shopping by asking, “Didn’t you say you lived in London? Is it someplace nearby?”  
“Yes, on Grimmauld Place. It was my godfather’s. Sirius Black left it to me when he died.  
“Will you show me?”  
“You want to see my house?” I asked skeptically.  
“Why not? You have seen both of mine and we have another hour before our appointment.”  
That was true enough, so we went on a mile and a half walk to Grimmauld Place. “This looks familiar,” Draco said as we turned onto my street.  
“Maybe you’ve been here before? Sirius was related to your mum. He said you lot were second cousins or something.”  
“Well he would’ve been in Azkaban by the time I was old enough to remember. Who else was in his family that I might know?”  
I told him, but he didn’t recognize any of the names; at least he didn’t until we entered the house, greeted by a screaming portrait. The secret had long since been broken by one of the many surviving Order Members accidentally speaking it, so we’d gone right in. Hermione and Ron were both at work, so Kreacher and the portrait of Sirius’ mum were the only ones home.  
“Auntie Black?” Draco asked, staring at the portrait screaming racist remarks at me. Meanwhile the racket had disturbed Cissa. She woke from her nap with a cry.  
“Who are you?” Walburga Black asked.  
“Draco Malfoy. This is my daughter, Cissa Malfoy,” Draco answered, bouncing Cissa up and down, trying to calm her, after having taken her from the pram.  
“Oh how wonderful! Finally a true Black come to rescue this place from the scum who have been tainting it with their presence!” the portrait exclaimed.  
“Um, Draco?” I asked.  
“Yes Harry?” he replied.  
“Can we go upstairs? I need to tell you something.”  
Draco agreed, so I led him with the baby to my drawing room on the third upper floor.  
“There certainly are a lot of stairs,” Draco complained as he carried Cissa upstairs behind me as we climbed the last flight.  
“Yes, well the second upper floor is Ron and Hermione’s. We sort of have it set up like an apartment with two flats. This one is mine,” I explained, as he sat down on the sofa with Cissa in his arms and I took the armchair across from him.   
“Alright. Well what did you want to talk to me about?”  
“Er, you sort of told me to, ah, make the baby’s last name Potter. You said it several times, even to all of your family, including the twins. I didn’t know you’d changed your mind, so I put Potter on the birth certificate.”  
“No. That’s just not possible. I wouldn’t ever have said that,” he insisted.   
“I’m sorry, but you did say it; repeatedly.”  
“Maybe in my nightmares.”  
“You said it in your nightmares?” I asked, heart rate picking up as I feared the worst.  
“Yes, but you said none of that was true. You said I didn’t reject my own baby.” His voice was pleading with me.  
“You didn’t, but you…er, were a bit off after the birth. Remember, I told you your hormones were all over the place?” He nodded, so I continued. “Well that was one of the uncharacteristic things you said.”  
“That and admitting you’re the father in the first place.”  
“Yes.”  
“But I didn’t do anything really horrible, right?”  
“Right. You were just emotional.”  
“We better head back,” Draco said, pointing to the clock on the wall.  
Sure enough, it was getting late and I was glad to drop the subject. We were off again soon after arriving and I was somewhat relieved that I hadn’t had to show Draco my entire house, because I was certain it wasn’t decorated to his standards. Plus Ron and Hermione were living with me and I didn’t want to encroach on their space.  
Cissa had gone back to sleep, so we put her back into the pram. Walburga called out an apology to Draco and the baby, but not to me, as we walked out the front door and headed back. Along the way, Draco shared the few memories he had of my house and his great aunt from when he was four and five, such as opening presents on Christmas and having feasts on Samhain. They were sweet memories and it didn’t quite seem possible that those things had happened with the people he said were involved. But maybe Sirius’ mum could act like a normal human being when only purebloods were around.  
We were soon back at St. Mungo’s and Draco was escorted back to an examination room by a nurse, while I was made to stay in the waiting room with Cissa. I waited a very long time. When I went to the counter to ask the receptionist what was taking so long, she said that Draco was back there talking to the healer. And so I sat back down, waited some more, and dreaded what was being said without me.  
I was really starting to panic and thinking the worst, which was that Draco was going to come out remembering everything, break up with me, and never see our daughter again. Then the nurse finally, finally, called me back. I’d been changing Cissa’s nappy at the moment, so I quickly finished up, strapping my baby back into the pram and shoving the nappy changing supplies back into the nappy bag. Then I followed the nurse to an examination room, where a healer was waiting on a stool and Draco was sitting on an examination bench.  
“Ah, you must be Auror Potter, have a seat. I am Healer Utting. I’ve just been speaking with Draco.” I sat and he continued. “Draco tells me you were the only adult with him during most of the period he can’t remember,” the Mind healer said.  
“That’s correct, although he was in contact with his grandmother through the portraits the whole time,” I answered, establishing my corroborating witness early on.  
“Draco, am I free to tell Harry what’s been going on? I know you said I was, but I want to double check before we go forward.” Draco agreed, so Utting continued. “Lord Malfoy here is under some mental distress owing to some lost memories. He is especially upset about losing the first few days of your daughter’s life and mildly distressed over losing the first week of your romantic relationship. I explained the cause to him, but he is still having trouble fitting the pieces of what happened together in his head. That is why I asked you back here: to help us fill in a few gaps.”  
That sounded promising, but I had one burning question. “What caused it? What’s wrong with him?”  
“Nothing is wrong with him now, but he was suffering from a severe hormonal imbalance when he came in, caused by the birth. That combined with the high dose of a very strong pain potion and possible interaction with the potions to treat his other symptoms seems to have erased a bit of his memory. It may still come back on its own or if doesn’t return, there are methods we can explore to retrieve these memories. But, all of those methods are invasive and it’d be much easier to ask you, so we have.”  
“What sort of hormonal imbalance? Was it from all of the dragon magic or being trapped on that island?” I asked. I probably should’ve asked it of Healer Smith, but I didn’t think of it until that moment.  
“No, it was a direct result of the birth. Sometimes these things happen with birth. There are a lot of hormones involved in the pregnancy process and they shift suddenly with the loss of the baby from the body. Caesarean sections can be especially jarring emotionally, because they happen so quickly. A natural birth gives the body time to prepare for the change that is coming,” Utting explained soothingly. “There was nothing that could be done outside of professional medical care.”  
“Oh…” I said, relieved.  
“It is slightly more unusual that the memory loss went back to a full week before the birth, but from what Draco tells me that you’ve told him, that was an emotional period for him too. A new relationship can be filled with emotional peaks and although that’s a good thing, they may have made the emotional crash associated with the birth that much more jarring,” Utting continued.  
Well that’s not what happened, because Draco and I hadn’t actually been together that week. But I was not about to tell the healer that, so instead I nodded along.  
“So now that we know what caused the problem and that it has been fixed, it’s our job to help Draco fill in the missing holes. He told me that you’ve been helping him with this task, but that he just can’t make sense of it. He has these conflicting images in his mind, which have come from his nightmares. I’m afraid his account was too jumbled for me to follow, so would you mind, Auror Potter, talking me through the birth and the events that proceeded it?” Utting requested.  
I was saved once more by Cissa, who had started to fuss while he spoke and let out a full out wail once he finished.  
“Um, could Draco take the baby out of the room, while I speak to you?” I asked.  
Utting asked Draco if he was alright with that, which Draco was, so Utting agreed. Draco left the room to walk the halls with a crying baby, muttering about perhaps she had gas again. The door closed and Utting’s piercing gaze fell once more to me, making me feel like I was in the hot seat.  
I relayed the events I had told Draco about, trying my best to lie smoothly. I was nervous, but the good thing about having Draco out of the room was that if I slipped, I could always walk out, take Draco with me, and insist on never seeing that healer again.   
When I finished, Utting said, “I see why Lord Malfoy is confused. Some of the events, such as the last name, are out of character for him and would only make sense in the scenario in his dreams. Do you see why he is so confused?”  
“Yes, but that’s what happened,” I persisted.  
“I’m sure it is. What reasoning did he give for changing the baby’s last name?”  
“That she didn’t look like a Malfoy; that she looked like a Potter, but she didn’t. I tried to tell him that, but he wouldn’t listen.”  
“This sounds almost word for word like one of his dreams he described having two days ago.”  
“Maybe he remembered it. That’s a good sign, isn’t it?”  
“Yes, it is, if it really happened.”  
“Huh?” That was the one thing in my whole story that was actually true and that was the thing he questioned?  
“Would you like to know what I think Auror Potter?” he asked and I nodded. “I think that you wanted your daughter to have your last name and with Lord Malfoy out of it and unable to interfere, you filled out the birth certificate accordingly. Then Lord Malfoy had the dream and told you about it when he woke up distressed. That dream fit in perfectly with your deception, so you added the bit about the name and his addled mind inserted it into his memory as part of the dream. You’ve been mulling it over for a few days now and decided this morning to spring the news on Lord Malfoy, but blamed it on him to keep the pressure off of you. You lied to him, telling him something from his dreams actually happened to suit your own needs, which is the primary cause of his distress.”  
“No, I’m not lying.” About that, at least. “He really wasn’t making sense after he had the baby. The truth is that he wasn’t as far off of his dreams as I’ve led him to believe, because I didn’t want him to feel bad about it,” I admitted.  
“What do you mean? He didn’t reject you and the baby, did he?”  
“No,” I lied quickly, but then had to take a long pause to figure out what to say next. “He was emotional, like you said. He wanted to be left alone and made me take care of Cissa by myself a lot. I’d go to check on him and he’d either be lying in his bed or with the twins and seem alright, but then he’d take one look at me and order me out. He never once hurt the baby, but he wasn’t as attentive as he is now and he screamed at me a few times and I don’t even know what about. Sometimes it was like he was having this conversion in his head that I didn’t know about and only speaking one line of it out loud, expecting me to follow,” I lied.  
“That might be it. Perhaps the dreams were the bad voices inside his head, pushing him away from you and the baby. He obviously had some control, because he wasn’t as bad as he was in his dreams, but a few of the bad thoughts spilled over into reality, accounting for the out of character behavior. This is all in line with the break with reality that is reported on his charts. Healer Smith was unable to determine the scope of the problem before the treatment was administered, but I think we are safe in assuming that this was it.”  
I wanted to jump right on that idea, because it was the perfect compromise between truth and fiction, but I stopped myself. From my experience as an Auror, I knew not to seem too eager. Sometimes being eager went further to convince someone to disagree or hold reservations. “Maybe…” I said, trying to sound unsure about it.  
My reluctance did the trick, because Utting seemed satisfied that he had the answer. He proceeded to move onto the subject of how we can help Draco, starting with being more honest. There was also some confusing jargon words that didn’t seem to mean much, followed up with supporting Draco through this difficult time. He urged me not to take any of Draco’s dreams too seriously, because even if Draco had actually thought about acting them out, he hadn’t and with his hormones severely out of balance, he shouldn’t be blamed for his wayward thoughts.   
The healer didn’t even think Draco should be blamed for his supposed uncharacteristic actions, liking telling me to name the baby Potter. Utting thought that the proper thing for me to do was to file a form changing my daughter’s last name back to Malfoy. I was with him until there, but the one positive thing that had come out of this whole mess was that I’d gained a daughter to pass my name on to. I told him I’d think about it, but asked him not to bring it up with Draco until I had a chance to weigh it over and he agreed. I certainly hoped we wouldn’t be seeing Utting again, so I wouldn’t have to give him my answer. If that was the case, I could just sweep the issue under the rug and forget about it until Cissa goes off to Hogwarts.  
Then Utting wanted to speak to Draco again, but Draco still wasn’t back, so he asked the nurse where his patient was. It turned out that Cissa was still screaming, apparently for no reason this time, so I took the baby from Draco and sent him back in to talk to the mind healer alone. I stayed in the waiting room, bouncing my daughter, humming, rubbing her tummy, burping her, and doing everything else I could think of to calm her, all the while thinking of Draco and what Utting was saying to him.   
I prayed to Merlin that Utting managed to make things better, not worse. My prayers must’ve been answered, because Draco came out fifteen minutes later and didn’t slap me. He was rather quiet as we flooed back to Malfoy Manor, but then Cissa was still screaming, so it was hard to hear each other.   
I took my daughter straight to her room, where I laid her down in her crib so that I could skim a book on calming babies when nothing seemed to be wrong. I was just about to make up another bottle, even though she couldn’t possibly be hungry, when the crying stopped. I looked in on her and she was sound asleep, her little fingers in her mouth, sucking.  
Once Cissa was settled, I went to find Draco, who was in the playroom with the twins and his grandmother. I asked if we could talk and when he agreed, we went into his private drawing room.   
I closed the door behind me and said, “I wanted to know how the last part went. You know, while I was watching the baby?”  
“Okay, I guess,” he replied.  
“You guess?” I prodded.  
“Well he said you have been lying to me. He said my behavior after the birth was more erratic than you’d told me and that you lied to make me feel better. He said that Smith diagnosed me with an unknown mental condition and fixed it with a potion. And he said that that unknown condition is what you lied to me to cover up. He also said that the condition and the potion to treat it can cause some memory loss or make the memory loss from the pain potion permanent or something.”  
“Look, I’m sorry, but you’d just had a baby and I didn’t want you feeling bad about not being your usual self. I still don’t want you worrying about it. You never did anything that awful and I didn’t mind doing a little extra of the child care. You looked after her for months without me around while she was in your belly, didn’t you? What’s four days of moodiness in comparison?”  
“I guess you’re right, but please don’t lie to me again. I have enough trouble sorting out reality from my dreams.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the truth is starting to slip out. They are going to have a serious talk about their relationship next chapter, because there’s something about it that’s been bothering Draco.  
> I think this story is winding down. Once the truth is out, they’ll be able to recover from it and live happily ever after.   
> Please Review!


	25. Chapter25

            In the week that followed, things went well between me and Draco. I felt increasing guilt each time I lied to him, but I daren’t tell him the truth and one look at our daughter was always enough to solidify my conviction. He either didn’t notice, didn’t dwell on it, or didn’t care what was bothering me, because he never said anything. We fell into a groove with one another and talked more, although the subject of his missing week and a half was pushed aside and forgotten about for a time.

            I started spending my mornings and afternoon with Draco and the children, before finding something else to do in the evenings, such as visiting my friends, the Weasleys, and Teddy and Andromeda. Occasionally I’d go out during the day and then I’d fetch Teddy for supper with the Malfoys.

            Sometimes I took Cissa out with me, especially for Weasley family dinners, but Draco preferred when I left her there with him. He really only let me take her, when he had plans to visit his father. He almost never went anywhere, always having his friends and family over to the Manor instead of leaving himself. The exception to that were his visit with his father in the Ministry Jail in London. He liked to go by himself on Sunday afternoons, which was conveniently for me, the day and time when the Weasleys held their weekly family dinners. And conveniently for Draco, it was when his friend Daphne was available to watch the twins.

            The Malfoys had hired a lawyer and were prepared to spend months battling in court for a sentence reduction, but it proved unnecessary. At the very first hearing on the subject, the presiding Warlock granted the motion for a sentence reduction and ordered Lucius moved to the jail. He winked at me as he dismissed the court session, indicating that it was a case of blatant favoritism towards me. Sometimes the favoritism really pushes my buttons and makes me angry that I’m not treated like any other normal person; but then sometimes it’s nice to be able to get my boyfriend’s father moved to the more convenient jail, instead of having to make the journal to Azkaban with a baby.

            Iona too was regularly visiting Lucius without me, since the visitation rules were far more lax at the jail, compared to Azkaban. Although, she never went with us on Wednesday when Draco and I took the children. With the three children, Wednesday mornings were hectic and often headache inducing, so it was not surprising that the old witch wanted no part of it. But other than said chaos, things went well.

            The biggest conflict during that time was regarding the twins’ clothes. I’d convince Draco not to buy white, but failed to convince him to keep buying Roadrick red clothes. I blamed the red hair on visiting the Weasleys, not Roadrick’s clothes, citing as evidence in favor the fact that when the baby did red, she always did strawberry blond, not true red. That comment set off a bad reaction in Draco as one of his dreams came to the forefront of his thoughts again. I convinced him to forget the bad dream, but I couldn’t say the same about the clothes.

            In the end, Draco ordered Roadrick a wardrobe full of yellow clothes. That led to many tantrums from the three year old, making it common place to hear the phrase, “I _hate_ lel-loah! I wan’ red!” Draco said to give it time and that it’d pass, but I always felt a sting of guilt when I heard it.

            That got me thinking about what other color Roadrick could be offered, specifically one that wouldn’t offend Draco’s senses if Cissa was tempted to copy it. Most colors were out, but not all of them. Black, brown, grey, and even silver would look somewhat normal as a hair color. Roadrick didn’t consider black, brown, or grey legitimate colors, which limited the choice down to silver; the toddler was impressed by the shiny gleam. Draco was skeptical at first, but Teddy insisted that metallic colors were hard to do. So when a trial set of silver robes failed to produce a baby with silver hair, Draco caved and purchased Roadrick a new wardrobe in silver.

 

* * *

 

 

            I decided to make our two week anniversary special, starting with Draco’s gift. I was still giving him presents once a day, which had all been received well, but what I was really hoping for was to wow him. For that I was employing the flower arrangement I’d ordered special for him with his favorite flowers. I arranged for it to be ready for our anniversary and then surprised him with the beautiful black and white bouquet after putting the children to bed.

            He didn’t know that there was anything special about this day. Not only was two weeks not usually celebrated, but also he thought that our relationship had started three, almost four weeks ago. I didn’t want to get into that can of worms, so I decided not to tell him and say that the gift was just because. We’d both already changed into our pajamas and he was in the middle of his bedtime routine, having just brushed his teeth and was now applying numerous beauty potions to his face, hair, and body, when the delivery elf arrived with a pop.

            He gasped and stood suddenly when he saw it, his mouth hanging open in surprise. The elf set it down on his chest of drawers and he walked closer to examine it. I wouldn’t have thought he’d be so surprise, since I’d bought him black and white flowers before. Only those had been whatever the florist had in stock and these were his favorites.

            “I hope that’s a good shock,” I said, wrapping my arms around him from behind. I pressed my lips to his neck, nuzzling my nose behind his ear.

            “It is. How did you know?” he asked in awe.

            “You told me they were your favorites. I said that when we got off that island, I’d get your favorites for you. It took me a bit of time to get them, but here they are.” It was a lie, but the lie was beginning to feel real to me.

            “Thank you,” he replied, turning around in my arms to face me.

            He leaned in and our lips connected. I opened my mouth for his probing tongue and melted in his arms. It was hot and passionate and paused only long enough to take a gasp of breath before he was back on me again. I could hear my blood pulsing through the veins in my ears as my blood rushed south, engorging my member. What I wanted more than anything in that moment was to shag him good and hard.

            My hands were all over his body, rubbing and caressing, as I traveled downwards. I passed his nipples and then found his arse, slipping my hands under the waistband of his pajamas. I pressed his body into mine, my erection finding rough friction pressed in between the pajama bottoms separating our bodies. He was hard too; I could feel him pressing into me. I began to rock forward and pull his bum closer to me, before releasing and repeating the cycle.

            We were snogging frantically and dry humping while standing up, when it occurred to me that this might go better lying down. I began leading him to the bed, taking one small step back at a time and making him follow. We were almost to the bed when he started pushing me away, his hands on my chest and his mouth pulled away from mine.

            “Stop,” he whispered.

            His head was turned away from me, so that I couldn’t catch his lips, which was why I started sucking on his neck. He moaned, but then said, “Stop,” again, not sounding convincing at all.

            I was really horny at this point. I’d been in his bed every night for two weeks, snogging and spooning him until he fell asleep. It’d been almost a month since the last time we’d fucked and I needed a release very badly. I’d been patient, waiting for him to recover from the birth, but he was no longer in any pain and there was no reason we couldn’t frot against each other until we obtained a mutual release. I didn’t want to stop.

            “Stop!” he yelled, pushing me firmly.

            This time his command registered in my brain and I stopped immediately. “Huh?” I asked.

            “I said stop Potter. Let me go,” he clarified.

            I loosened my grip and he pulled away, sitting down on the bed with his elbows on his knees and his head cupped in his hands. He looked to be both distressed and deep in thought.

            “What’s wrong?” I asked, moving to sit next to him, my hand caressing his blond hair, before trailing down his neck to his back. He didn’t answer immediately, so I took the time to caress my way back up his neck and stroked his cheek. “Hmm?”

            He huffed and then said, “I can’t do this. I don’t know how I ever did it before.”

            “We don’t have to have sex; I just wanted to make us feel good.” I moved my other hand to his side, caressing up and down his waist.

            “No, it’s not the sex, you imbecile!”

            “Then what can’t you do?”

            “The relationship! The romance! The feelings! I don’t know how to do it again!”

            “Again?” I asked, hand pausing in my movements, because I wanted to know what he meant.

            He huffed again, before saying, “I was in love before. He left me.”

            “And you never got over it?”

            He nodded and asked, “Have you noticed I don’t speak to Blaise or Pansy anymore?”

            “No…I haven’t.”

            “Well I don’t.”

            When he didn’t get to the point after half a minute, I asked. “Why?”

            “Blaise because he’s dating Pansy.”  
            “You were dating Pansy in Hogwarts, weren’t you?” I was starting to wonder if Draco was still in love with Pansy, although that didn’t seem possible, given that he was gay.

            “Yes, but only as a way to get closer to her older brother Pernell. He was gorgeous, blond hair, brown eyes, tall, lean, and handsome.”

            “So you switched from dating Pansy to dating Pernell?”

            “Yes. I spent a lot of time over at her house after the war, occasionally spending the night. I couldn’t sleep one night, so I went for a walk in the gardens. He was having a late night swim in the lake, naked. He invited me in. I stripped and went. I was apprehensive at first, fearing he wouldn’t return my feelings, but then he started touching me a lot. Before I knew it we were snogging with our bits pressed together, humping away in the water. After that night, I told Pansy we could only be friends, because I fancied her brother.”

            “I bet she didn’t take that one well.”

            He shrugged. “Not at first, but she’s Pansy. She quickly re-insinuated herself into my life, only as my gal-friend instead of my romantic interest. Pernell asked me out and it got serious from there. A few years after the war, when things had settled down and the trials were over, I thought Pernell and I should make it official. I asked him to marry me.”

            “And?”

            “And he said no. He said he couldn’t marry me, because he needed to provide an heir for his family. He wanted to marry a witch to produce a child and fuck me on the side; he thought I should do the same. I tried to explain to him that we didn’t need witches to produce our heirs and that we could have a child with just the two of us. I told him about my religion and that male pregnancy was possible on the island, even though I knew I wasn’t supposed to tell outsiders. He didn’t believe me or he didn’t want to believe me. The Parkinsons are Church of England and he wouldn’t even think about my suggestion, because it went against his stupid religious beliefs,” he explained.

            “What happened then?”

            “Well then he stopped responding to my owls and blocked my access to his floo. I tried contacting Pansy, begging her to intercede on my behalf. I couldn’t lose him.”

            He broke down in sobs then and I pulled him into my lap, pressing soothing kisses to his hair and running my arms up and down his torso. “You loved him,” I supplied.

            “I…still…do…only…I…hate…him…more.”

            “He broke your heart?” I asked and he nodded into my chest, bending his head down to reach. “It’s his loss, because you, Draco Malfoy, are a wonderful catch. You’re smart, funny, gorgeous, and great in bed. You’re better off without that looser. I would never leave you. I wouldn’t do that to you.”

            Draco stopped crying and moved towards the bed, to lie down. I followed, cuddling him quietly for a time. I had a lot to think about, like the fact that he was still in love with someone he couldn’t have. I also tried to fit this knowledge into what I knew of his life. He said this had happened sometime after the war trials finished, which I figured was maybe a year before he lost his mother. He must’ve been trying to get over the heartache when he was struck with a worse tragedy: the deaths of his maternal grandparents and mother. After that, he’d holed himself up in his cave to be away from the world and had the twins. At least the idiot wasn’t the twin’s dad and he didn’t have that sort of constant reminder of the wizard who had left him, but it did explain why he was single and willing to have babies by himself.

            It occurred to me then that now that I knew why he was so reluctant, we could finally move towards building a real relationship. I’d have to help him get over the Parkinson git and show him that I really wasn’t going to leave him. In time he’d have to open up and love again and I was going to be there when it happened.

            As these thoughts went through my head, my hands began to wander again, running up and down his body. My erection returned and I soon found myself kissing up and down his neck while humping his hip.

            “Harry?” Draco asked, causing me to stop mid-hump.

            “Yes.”

            “Can we sit back up and finish talking?”

            I acquiesced and disentangled myself from his body. We resumed our earlier positions, only this time my hands were in my lap as I waited for what he was going to say.

            “So, um…I don’t know if I can ever get passed Pernell to be with anyone, including you. I don’t know how I got past it before. It was so quick that I don’t even understand how I could’ve. How could I have had sex with you every night that week? It just doesn’t make sense,” he said, hands moving up and down in his lap for emphasis.

            “You did it the same way you did it the first night. You remember coming to me then, don’t you?”

            “Yes, but then I thought only of using you to pleasure myself. I was horny and incapable of getting off on my own in that state. I remembered what a nice penis you had, even better than Pernell’s, and thought it’d do. There were no emotions involved, just sex.”

            “I’m not so sure the other nights were any different. Sure you said the first night that you were using me and we were never to talk about it again and you didn’t say those things again. But we sort of had this understanding that we wouldn’t talk about it still. I’d assumed we were moving forward, but I didn’t know about your past, so maybe I was wrong.”

            “How much sex did we have, exactly?”

            “A lot. At least once each night. More at the beginning, less as the week progressed, because then you were already sore.” The lie came naturally now.

            “Fuck,” he said blushing.

            “Yes, that was the idea.”

            “No, I mean, shite, your sex must have been really good. You got me addicted to your penis, is what must’ve happened. Is it as big as I remember?”

            “It’s large, but it’s not _huge_. How big do you remember?” He blushed and shook his head, so I asked, “Do you want to see it?” He stared at me with wide eyes and I thought he was on the verge of saying yes. “Do you want to touch it?” I let my hand slide down to my erection, pressing the material of my pajama bottoms around it, to show him the outline.

            Draco nodded and held out his hand, which I then guided inside my pants, to my hard cock. He squeezed his hand around my head and then jumped, as if he’d scared himself. He quickly pulled his hand out of my pants, clasped it in his lap, and started fidgeting.

            “Well, what do you think?” I prodded.

            “It’s big. The head is really big. That’s what I always loved about Pernell’s: it was big. He got me addicted to his cock and then left me to go without. Then you come along and yours is even bigger.” He let out a sound of frustration, as if he were upset with himself for falling for good cock.

            “Look, if you get addicted to my cock, it’s not going to be a problem. I’m going to be here to fuck you as much as you want, whenever you want. Even if we’re fighting, all you have to do is say you’re horny and sit your arse down on my lap. I’ll let you have your way with me and get your release. I’m not going to hold sex over your head.”

            He nodded, but still seemed apprehensive.

            “You do mean you want to bottom again, don’t you? Because if you wanted to top, we could do that too.” I’d bottomed before and didn’t mind. Draco had a nice cock, so I figured he’d know how to use it.

            “Merlin no! Why would I want to do _that_?” He asked. I shrugged, wondering how he could not want it. “I can top with my hand. If I’m having sex, I want a big fat cock in my arse.”

            “That can be arranged.”  
            “Do _you_ like to bottom?”

            “I normally end up doing it, but I prefer to top,” I answered with a shrug.

            “Good.”

            “Have you ever topped?”

            “No. Pernell wanted to top and he was older, bigger, and more experienced, so he got his way. I might’ve insisted on it before the war, but after…it just felt more natural this way. I fell in love with it and never wanted to try the other way around.”

            “You really did get addicted to cock, didn’t you?”

            “You have no idea.”

            “Why don’t you show me?”

            “I don’t know…”

            “I don’t want to push you, so we can just do whatever you’re ready for. I can wait for sex.”

            “I don’t know…”

            “What don’t you know?” I prodded.

            He let out a sigh of frustration, before answering, “If I can do this. If I can love again. How to be in a relationship.” He waved his hands around for emphasis.

            “Look, there is no need to rush this. If you don’t love me yet, that’s fine. This is still new. I just need you to keep trying and eventually the love will build. And if it doesn’t work out, we’ll deal with that later. We’ll share the kids fairly and if you still need a bit of cock, we can arrange that too. I’m not going to hurt you the way that Parkinson git did,” I swore. With my celebrity and my aversion to dating groupies, in addition to my preferring dominant bottoms, I’d been single since the breakup with Ginny years ago. If this relationship didn’t work out, I’d go right back to being terminally single. And if that was the case, there was no reason I couldn’t continue to satisfy Draco sexually.

            Truthfully, I didn’t know how much love I felt for him either. There was desire, want, passion, and maybe a bit of obsession, but true love takes time and we had only been together for two weeks. I thought there was a kernel of love there and hoped that buried behind his anxiety, he had a kernel of love for me too. A kernel was all we needed to start; it was all that was required to grow and build upon.

            “How do I try? What am I supposed to be doing here?” He sounded so broken, like he’d lost all confidence when it came to love. In that moment, I wanted to punch Parkinson in the face for doing this to him.

            “Just be here with me. Do you think you can do that?” I asked and he nodded. “And do you think you could let me make love to you? Let me show you how I feel? You don’t have to return the feeling right away. You only have to enjoy it. Do you think you can enjoy it?”

            “Yes,” he answered breathily.

            That seemed to be all he needed to hear. He was suddenly confident again and taking control, just as he’d done the previous times. He crashed his lips to mine, pulling at my pajama bottoms. He got my cock out and left my clothes around my thighs, switching his attention to his own clothes. I helped, tugging at his buttons. Once naked, he climbed onto my lap, muttered a lubrication spell, and positioned my cock, but I stopped him there. I didn’t want this to be another mad dash to the end, without feeling. I wanted to show him that I could worship his body. I got the feeling he’d never had anyone do that for him before.

            “Let me show you,” I said, shrugging off my remaining clothes, before pushing him back on the bed. He complied and lay there waiting for me.

            I trailed kisses down his neck and across his chest, to his nipples. I let my fingers trace up and down his sides and trail down his thighs. I kissed and sucked his mouth until his lips were swollen and he was panting for breath. Then I moved lower, taking his engorged prick into my mouth, one hand sifting through the line of blond hairs on his belly and the other gripping one of his thighs, holding his legs apart so that the instinctual press of his legs together didn’t crush my head. He was moaning and gasping like he’d never had this done to him before and maybe he hadn’t; either he was always too eager to be in control or Parkinson was a right selfish arse and didn’t reciprocate.

            His hips started bucking up and I nearly choked on his cock. I pulled away just far enough to say, “Lie still, will you? You act like you’ve never had your dick sucked before.”

            He gasped at the feeling of my breath wafting over his wet, heated cock. “I haven’t,” he replied with a groan.

            Later I would ask him about it and confirm that Parkinson had refused to do this to him, but for now I concentrated on satisfying him sexually. “Right, well spread your legs and keep your hips still.”

            Draco did his best to obey, but he wasn’t particularly good at keeping still, especially when my fingers entered his slick hole. He spread his thighs wide and kept them that way as I stretched him, but his hips still bucked occasionally and his back arched up off of the bed. He tossed his head from side to side and gripped the sheets with his hands. Then he let out a loud moan that may have been an attempt to warn me, but in actuality didn’t come out much like English. His thighs quivered and shook, before snapping shut around my head. Then his hips buck upped, his heels digging into the mattress and he came down my throat.

            I swallowed what I could and licked the head clean, but left some of his mess covering his shaft. I was still rock hard and pulsing and feared it might be a while before he was ready to go again. But that wasn’t the case, because he soon started yanking on his own shaft until the blood flowed back into it. He lay down missionary and I made slow, sweet love to him for the better part of an hour. That ended when he ordered me to fuck him good and hard, which I tried my best to do.

            “Oh, right…there!” he cried, panting for breath and writhing on my cock as I thrust into him hard, his legs bent and resting on my shoulders. “Of fuck, I wish I had a dildo like this.”

            I did my best to maintain the angle, pounding into him.

            “Don’t…stop. I’m…so…close. If…you…cum…before…me…Oh!” he didn’t finished his threat, instead letting out a loud moan. “Oh yeah, riiight…there.”

            He started thrashing on my cock and I didn’t know how long I could hold out. It turned out that the answer was not for long, because he then started cumming, hot white fluid spurting from his cock and coating our abdomens. I leaned in and pressed my lips to his and came in his arse. It wasn’t quite as good as on the island, but it was still highly pleasurable. He was a good fuck and if getting him addicted to my cock was all I had to do to keep him, then I was willing to do just that. And maybe I could make him love me too…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So there’s the first of their serious discussion about their relationship. Draco has finally opened up and revealed what is bothering him. I hope it makes more sense now where he’s coming from and why he’s so emotionally scared.  
> I think next chapter Harry will be going back to the island, to help with the terrorist siege and wrap up that part of the plot.  
> Please review!


	26. Chapter26

            Almost a month after Cissa was born, the Ministry raid succeeded in seizing control of the dragon reserve from the Hrypa terrorists. With the terrorists on the run, all Aurors were called in to help round them up and subdue any remaining human threats. Not even the fact that I had a newborn daughter with an unstable father could get me out of going, especially because I was the one who knew the island.

            I returned to the island mainly to act as a source of quick-fire intelligence for the other Aurors. I sat in the Ministry’s command center and gave orders, directing other Aurors to known terrorist occupied caves. I advised on the location of the dragons and whether or not I knew them to be violent or corrupted by the terrorists. Then there were all the dead bodies I’d left behind before leaving, which had to be collected and the deaths investigated properly.

            Finally, there were the few remaining locals to contact and to protect; we tried to steer the battles and fighting away from their caves, but that wasn’t always possible and they would have to be notified once again to get out. It was hard to believe that anyone would stay on the island through all of that fighting, but some had. They were those that felt a sense of connection to the land or the dragons and a duty to protect. They got underfoot, trying to help out without being told to. Sometimes their actions did benefit us, while at other times, they interfered. And if they could be summoned and called to arms in time, they formed a militia acting beside us and swelling our numbers, giving us hope and support. Once or twice they were the grain of sand that tipped the scales in our favor, aiding our victories.

            I did the bare minimum, leaving as soon as I could possibly arrange it, so that I could get back to Draco and Cissa. Iona and the twins had been with them and she insisted that Draco had been fine for the week; extremely annoyed that my friends kept stopping by to check on him, but acting appropriately towards our daughter. Hermione, Molly, and Andromeda had all done me the favor of stopping by in my absence; Dromeda was the only one of the group whose visit he wasn’t mad about.

            Dromeda, as the closest living relative of Narcissa’s, besides Draco, was heralded as a link to his precious mother. She told me that he greeted her with fear at first, mistaking her for her sister Bellatrix, and then with open arms when he realized who she was. It also helped that she had Teddy with her, who he was familiar with, since I’d frequently had Teddy over. So after Hermione and Molly got sick of Draco’s scowls, Dromeda and Teddy took over the job of checking on Draco every day in my absence.

            Upon my return, I was so worried that something would change. My worst fear was that Draco would remember, which was followed closely by my fear that he wouldn’t let me back in. The second fear I thought to be very likely, given the fact that every time I’d left his cave I had a bitch of a time getting back in. But even if neither of those two things happened, there was still the possibility that he’d changed his mind about our relationship.

            I’d done my best in the two weeks I had before I left to fuck his brains out every chance I got. I even got up with him to feed the baby, just to be able to pull him onto my cock afterwards. He’d told me that the key to trapping him was to get him addicted to my dick and I did my best to do so and suck him in. I definitely wasn’t counting on him having fallen in love with me yet, although he did treat me well and for the most part acted the role of the typical boyfriend. And we were growing closer, sharing more of ourselves with each other. With that first open and honest conversation, we’d begun to talk about our pasts and our feelings.

            But what if it wasn’t enough? What if these past nine days of separation were long enough for him to clear his head and decide against allowing himself to be vulnerable to me? What if he’d found a dildo and replaced me? What if he clammed back up emotionally? What if he remembered his pureblood prejudices against me or the hatred he felt for me during school? What if he wanted me out of his life?

            I was extremely nervous as I returned home, thus my shopping detour. I was still using daily gifts to lure him into having a relationship with me, relying on his shallowness. While I was gone, I’d even directed the elves to present him with the few little gifts that I hadn’t had a chance to give him; there wasn’t one for every day, but there were three nice things. Now my supply was exhausted and I couldn’t bear the thought of showing up empty handed.

            One of the problems with shopping for Draco was that he didn’t like clothes off of the rack; that was a general problem with the wizarding world, really, but if I’d been with someone less picky, I could buy muggle. I ended up buying him an expensive pair of leather shoes with matching leather belt, both off the rack; they were the limit of what Draco would accept that wasn’t custom made. Then I prepaid for a spa day and picked up a bouquet of flowers. Luckily our florist was expecting an order from me and already had his favorite black and white flowers in the shop. I tipped said florist generously and let her know to keep Draco’s flowers in stock, because I would be back again soon.

            I worried that I didn’t have enough for Draco, because I wanted to give him everything right away, which would leave me empty handed come tomorrow. I almost went in another few stores looking for other things he might like, but my eagerness to get back to him, to see him and our daughter again, won out. I apparated to Malfoy Manor with my gifts in hand and banged on the knocker.

            Lifton answered and escorted me in. Draco was sitting in the sitting room, Cissa on his lap and cooing at the silly voices he was making. Broderick and Roadrick were clambering on his either side, each trying to get onto his lap with the baby.

            “Harry! You’re back!” Draco exclaimed, looking up from the children with a face that was happy to see me.

            “Yeah, these are for you,” I said, holding out the flowers.

            “Get down for a moment, boys,” Draco requested, speaking to Broderick on his right and then to Roadrick on his left.

            “No, pick me up!” Roadrick cried in protest, not noticing me.

            “Harry!” Broderick cried, noticing me. He ran to me instantly and flung himself upon my legs, tying me to the spot.

            “I can’t pick you up Roadrick if you do not first let me up to put Cissa down,” Draco said evenly.

            Roadrick looked from his father to me, where I stood greeting Broderick cheerfully. Then he ran and flung himself at me, clinging to my legs right next to his brother. I greeted him just as cheerfully as I had his brother. Draco now free to rise, put Cissa in her infant seat, turning the toy bar on and setting the straps to buckle themselves with the wave of his wand. Then he greeted me, leaning over the two much shorter blond heads to kiss me, his larger hands on each of my arms next to the two pairs of hands belonging to the twins. The kiss was short, but infused with the fire and passion that burned between us.

            “I missed you,” Draco said, pulling back from our kiss.

            “Pick me up!” Broderick cried.

            “Me too!” Roadrick seconded.

            “Alright, come here,” Draco said, scooping the closest twin to him, Broderick, up and sitting the child on his hip.

            “Here, take these and I’ll get Roadrick,” I said, thrusting the bouquet into Draco’s free hand.

            Draco took the flowers, smelled them, and then at the cry of, “Lemma smell too,” lowered them for Broderick to sniff.

            Meanwhile I scooped Roadrick up in my arms, listening to him prattling on too quickly for me to catch what he was saying. His little head was leaning into my chest and his little body forming to fit my arm under his bum; I didn’t bother trying to rest him on my slender hips, knowing that he’d just slide down. Draco’s hips were slender too, but were just enough wider to keep a child in place there and he had much more practice at it than I did.

            My legs free to move, I then deposited my gift bag on the sofa.

            “Lifton, put these in a vase,” Draco said, holding out the black and white colored blooms.

            With a snap of Lifton’s boney fingers, the bouquet disappeared from Draco’s grasp and reappeared in a vase on the end table.

            “What else did you bring?” Draco asked, stepping closer to the sofa to peer into the bag.

            “What did’ja bring me?” Roadrick asked from my arms.

            “And me?” Broderick seconded from Draco’s hip, head bending down to look too.

            It was then that I realized my mistake: I’d brought three presents for Draco and none for the children. I had to think quickly and the solution spewed forth from my tongue automatically. It was a solution I remembered the Dursleys using to placate Dudley. I hated myself for stooping to the Dursley’s level, but I now understood it. “We’ll go out to the toy store and buy you each a present.” And then I added a lie to explain why these presents weren’t already in hand. “I didn’t know which toys to buy. I need you both to show me which ones to get.”

            “Toy?” Roadrick asked innocently.

            “Store?” Broderick asked in the same manner.

            “I’ve never taken them to a toy store. I hope you know what you are getting yourself into,” Draco stated.

            “I need to go shopping tomorrow anyway. They can go with me. It’ll be fun,” I said jovially, pushing away the thoughts of a pair of three-year-olds out of control at a toy store. And what was worse was that they were Malfoy three-year-olds with all of the spirit for mayhem Draco himself had possessed.

            “Alright, if you insist. You do know that you don’t have to keep buying me things every day, don’t you?” Draco asked, guessing the purpose behind my planned trip.

            “I don’t?” I asked it automatically, taken by surprise. “You don’t like my gifts?” I amended.

            “I do, but they aren’t necessary. It’s nice, but I’m not so shallow as to up and disappear if you miss one day of giving me something. We’re dating now and you’re the father of my daughter.”

            “I don’t mind being a father to your sons too, if you’d allow me.”

            At my statement, Draco breathed in surprise; it wasn’t quite a gasp, but it was there. “You would? You aren’t just being nice to them to get closer to me?”

            “No, they’re great kids; smart and brave and super cute. I know you said they don’t have a second parent, which means I won’t be stepping on anybody’s toes. Every kid deserves two parents. You’re already sharing Cissa with me, so you might as well share them with me too,” I answered honestly. “If you’d like, I’ll share my Teddy with you.”

            Draco ducked his head and sat down on the sofa, pulling Broderick into his lap and distracting himself with straightening the child’s collar. I sat down next to him, pushing the gift bag aside, so that I could slide my thighs up against his, mirroring his position with Roadrick on my lap. The twins pushed and giggled at each other, while Draco thought silently and I waited with baited breath. And then he nodded and gave me his answer, “Alright. We can try it for now, but I don’t want to force it on them. I’m not going to tell them to call you Daddy or insist Teddy calls me Father.”

            “That’s fine. Harry is good for now,” I conceded, ducking my head slightly to catch his eyes as they looked down, under his lashes. He blushed and tilted his head to look at me properly. “I got you something else.” I reached for the bag, to pull it to my other side, and Roadrick leaned over and pulled with me. He got in the way more than he helped, but I thanked him enthusiastically anyway.

            “What’s it?” Broderick asked, leaning over and shoving his little hands into the bag without permission.

            “For me?” Roadrick asked, joining his brother in reaching in.

            “No, it’s not for either of you. It’s for me. Harry said you will get your gifts tomorrow when he takes you to the store, remember?” Draco asked the twins, before turning his head to face me, his hair swinging into his eyes momentarily. “Is it alright, Harry, if I let them open it for me? It won’t break, will it?”

            I chuckled and waved the twins ahead, saying, “It’s fine.”

            “Go ahead you two. Can you take it out?” Draco asked, turning to the boys.

            “We’kin do it,” Roadrick said, pulling out the belt.

            “Yeah,” Broderick seconded, struggling with a shoe.

            The boys left their items on Draco’s chest and dived back into the bag, fighting over the other shoe, with shouts of, “I got it, and, “Lemme.”

            With a final, “Oofph,” the second shoe joined the first on Draco’s chest.

            Draco examined the gifts with a shy smile, setting them to the side, so that they wouldn’t be crushed by either boy. “These are really nice, Harry. Thank you. But you know, like I said earlier, you don’t have to keep buying me things. I’m beginning to think you don’t approve of my wardrobe.”

            “Oh no, I do,” I said hastily. “Your stuff is great, brilliant even.”

            “It’s just a tad old, I know. I didn’t think you’d be one to notice the subtle changes in fashion.”

            “Oh no, I didn’t. I was trying to match what you have and these were the closest. Your tastes are fine; I just noticed your things were worn.”

            “Mother would be ashamed of my wardrobe, I know. Shopping just isn’t the same without her.”  
            “You could order your things, like you do for the boys.”

            Draco shrugged and said, “I know, but without mother…”

            “I’ll do your shopping then. I don’t mind.” I probably ought to tell him to face his fears, but I didn’t. I liked him leaning on me and needing me, because it meant it would be harder for him to pull away again.

            “I’ll pay you back.”

            “No need; you’re my boyfriend. I’m allowed to spoil you and I don’t need the money.”

            Draco looked like he was going to question me for a moment, but then nodded and took me at my word. It occurred to me then that he must trust me now.

* * *

 

            The following day Draco proved how much he trusted me by letting me take his boys out to the store. I invited Teddy along and used the excuse of making the day of it to bring back ups in the form of Dromeda and Hermione. I would’ve brought Ron, but he was still busy on assignment in Scotland, rounding up terrorists who tried to flee to the mainland.

            I had thought Broderick and Roadrick were out of the terrible twos, but that trip just reminded me how awful the troublesome threes could be. The sound of the shrieks they made in excitement at seeing all of the toys in the store was ear splitting. The energy level with which they bounced around the store was impossible to keep up with. The whole outing in general was mind-numbing. I highly doubted that I would’ve survived had I not had help with me.

            Given how much work the ordeal was, I didn’t want any reason to have to go through it again soon. Thus I bought everything the three boys asked for as well as a stack for Cissa to grow into. When we returned to Malfoy Manor, I only gave each boy one of their presents to play with now, putting the rest up for later. The twins were so little that they’d forgotten the missing items by the time we got home. I was worried for a minute that Teddy was going to expose me, but Dromeda reminded him that it wasn’t his birthday or Christmas, so he’d have to wait. Thankfully Teddy nodded and went back to playing with the new toy I did let him have right away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So that pretty much ties up everything with the war on the island. Draco and Harry’s relationship has had time to grow. And now I think it’s time Draco discovers the truth. We are quickly approaching the end of this story. I only have about four more chapters planned.  
> Please Review!


	27. Chapter27

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I changed my mind and decided to add in an extra chapter...

            The Auror department was so short staffed due to the conflict with the terrorists that I was asked to return to work. Not to the field or the island, thank Merlin, or even full time, but part time at a desk in London. Paperwork had to be filed and sorted and information sent out to those working the field. And with such a high percent of the Auror Corp deployed in the Hebrides islands, there weren’t enough people left to man the office. Thus I’d agreed to return to work part time, in the afternoons, five days a week. It had the advantage of keeping me from going stir crazy at home and the twenty hour work week would mean I could take more time off later.

            Moments after returning home from work one Tuesday of my second week back on the job, before I could even remove my Auror robes and work boots, Lifton popped into the room. The elf appeared nervous, wringing his hands as he spoke in a quavering voice. “Master Harry’s Weasley friend is in the foyer arguing with Master Draco.” When he finished his announcement, he switched to pulling at his ears.

            “Shite!” I exclaimed, wondering which of the Weasleys it was. “Which one?” I didn’t wait for an answer, instead apparating to the foyer.

            Lifton followed after me, apparating to my side, but he didn’t answer my question. He was in fact a distraction, with his ear pulling, hand wringing, and sounds of distress, not a help.

            “-Have to be such as arse about it Malfoy. My mum was just trying to be nice and invite you to dinner,” Ron said, sounding rather ticked off at Draco. I knew instantly that it was Ron.

            “Ron! You’re back!” I exclaimed running forward and engulfing my best mate in a hug. Unlike myself, who had spent the bare minimum amount of time in the Ministry’s siege of the island, Ron had played an important command role and had been in it for the long haul. I hadn’t seen him since leaving the island weeks ago and his return meant that the conflict was over. I felt extremely relieved to know that he’d made it back alive, in one piece, and seemingly uninjured.

            “No thanks to you mate, dodging out of there like that. Took dragon fire to my back, I did, and it was Perkins who was there to patch me up,” Ron teased with a goofy smile, hugging me back. He was implying that as his long term partner, it should’ve been me there to have his back.

            I gave Ron a serious look and glanced to Draco, hoping to silently convey that things at home were not stable enough for me to leave on an extended assignment like that. Besides, I’d just come back from months and months of rescue duty on the island; even if there wasn’t the situation with Draco and Cissa, I would still want to take some time off from the field. Part time desk duty was a nice change of pace; eventually the old itch to be out there in the thick of things would return, but for now I was happy with things the way they were.

            Draco returned my glance with an angry glare. “Your _friend_ here invited him and his wife over for dinner and then threw the invitation back in my face. Apparently the Malfoy dining room isn’t good enough for their kind,” Draco sneered.

            “Ron, you couldn’t even wait until I got home from work to stop by and harass my boyfriend?” I asked, half teasing, half serious. He had upset the mood in my home and I’d have to be the one to calm Draco down when Ron left. Plus, I’d promised Teddy he could come over today, since this was a Tuesday and one of Teddy’s days came over. That meant I was on a limited timeline when it came to smoothing things over with Draco, or Teddy would notice the tension.

            Sometimes it varied, but lately Teddy had been coming over Tuesday evenings, and spending Friday and Saturday nights. Sundays he’d go back to Dromeda’s, but I’d see him at the Burrow for the Weasley family dinner. The schedule worked. However, if Ron and Draco were fighting, it might just be better to have Teddy over tomorrow instead. I sighed, thinking about how disappointed Teddy would be.

            “ _I_ wasn’t harassing him. _I_ was merely passing along the message from Mum that she’d like to have him and his children over for dinner on Sunday. _He_ was the one who is too good to be caught dead in the Burrow or spend a meal with our family,” Ron replied.

            Draco cut in there. “I politely explained to your friend here that we cannot make it Sunday. Broderick and Roadrick have their playdate over at the Nott’s and I have an appointment to see my father. Then I graciously invited him and his wife over for dinner Saturday. But no, the Manor’s dining facilities and our house elves are not up to pare with the Weasley accommodations.”

            I sighed, before stepping between the two and raising my arms, to stop the apparent pissing match over dinner. “Enough. Ron, I will let your mum know how many people to expect for dinner Sunday. Draco, we will talk about that later, but are you serious about inviting Ron and Hermione over for dinner Saturday?”

            Draco gave a curt nod, catching my eye. The look he gave me was one that indicated that he was trying to get along with my friends for my sake. I got the impression that he would’ve thrown Ron out on his arse by now if we weren’t friends. Draco also seemed a bit exasperated, as if he’d honestly tried to be civil, but Ron had gone off anyway. In all fairness to Ron, Draco’s civil could come across as rather brisk and or pompous at the best of times. At the worst of times, he’d simply leave one out on his doorstep indefinitely, hoping the visitor would go away.

            I nodded back to Draco, to let him know I understood, before turning back to Ron. “Ron, please inform Hermione of the invitation. If you cannot make it this weekend, we can have the dinner date moved to a more convenient time,” I said.

            “But that’s not the point. Mum and Dad want to meet your family, Harry. You know how Mum gets,” Ron replied.

            I did know how Molly got. She was always asking me to bring Draco and the kids with me to Sunday dinner. She loved seeing little Cissa, but she wanted the whole bunch. I’d passed along the offers to Draco a few times, but mostly I just informed her that Draco wasn’t ready for the whole Weasley experience yet. The Weasleys were a huge family and Draco was still rather reclusive in nature.

            I nodded to Ron, then leaned in close to Draco and whispered, “Can we just invite Molly and Arthur Weasley too?”

            “I would prefer not to have them on the same day as him and his wife,” Draco replied back softly, referring to Ron and Hermione.

            “So you’re not opposed to dinner, you’re just opposed to dinner with all of them?” I whispered.

            Draco nodded.

            “Scratch that Ron. Your mum and dad are invited over this Saturday. We’ll have you and Hermione over next Saturday. Let’s work up to the whole gang, yeah?”

            “No!” Draco exclaimed, looking panicked at the idea. But then he schooled his features and muttered an, “Excuse me.”

            Ron had an “Aha!” look on his face, as if he’d just caught Draco in some ghastly social slip. He smirked, but thankfully refrained from saying what was on his mind.

            “Ron, Draco and I need to talk about this in private. For now, let’s leave it at the two separate dinners. Is there anything else you wanted? Teddy will be here any minute,” I said, looking at my watch. Actually it was past time for Teddy to floo over and I wondered where he was.

            “Master Teddy is already here, sir. He is playing with Masters Broderick and Roadrick, sir, in the playroom. Bonnie is watching them, sir,” Lifton squeaked in.

            Well that explained where Teddy was at least. Unlike the twins, he was the type of quiet unobtrusive kid who could floo into a house without being noticed. He’d just put his backpack with his homework in his room, hang his cloak up, and head to the playroom all by himself. He even used to do that back when I lived in Grimmauld Place and there weren’t any other children already in the playroom. Now that there were, he was even happier to play quietly and not disturb the adults. And his presence seemed to have a calming influence on the twins, reducing the number of shouts and tantrums heard in the house by playing with them and coming up with adventures that the three of them could go on. That had occasionally led to the children exploring all corners of the Manor, inside and out, but the elves always knew where they were, so that was okay.

            “Just to tell my best mate that I’m back,” Ron said, answering my earlier question. Grinning, he reached out an arm and slapped me on the back.

            I grinned and returned the manly back slap. “Glad to have you back. But next time firecall and I’ll come by your place, yeah?”

            Ron rolled his eyes, as if to question how my relationship with Draco was ever going to work if Draco didn’t get along with my friends, but nodded.

            I had hope that these two could put aside their differences and learn to be cordial towards one another. I fully expected that one day Ron would be able to pop in and say hello without me here. But for now the relationship with Draco was still new and the animosity between Draco and Ron still fresh, so I preferred being present to chaperone their meetings.

            “Later, mate,” Ron called, turning to go.

            “Later,” I returned, as I watched Ron let himself out.

            Draco sighed, his posture deflating. He turned and headed for the nearby drawing room, the large one on the first floor where Hermione had been tortured, and sunk down into one of the high backed chairs. He looked defeated and it was odd seeing him use this room, since it was normally avoided. There were bad memories of the war in this room for him and for me, but it seemed the argument with Ron had made him forget where he was.

            “I tried, Harry, I did. He just wouldn’t stop pushing about bloody Sunday dinner,” Draco said.

            I took Draco’s hands in one of mine and knelt in front of him. I tucked a wayward strand of hair behind his ear and asked gently, “Could you tell me what the problem with Sunday dinner is? I won’t make you go, but if I just had something to tell Mrs. Weasley, it would help.”

            Draco huffed and looked up at the ceiling for a minute, before looking down and meeting my eyes. He shrugged and said, “There are too many of them.”

            “Weasleys?” I asked for clarification.

            “Strangers. People.” He paused, before revealing, “Crowds. I have bad memories of crowds from the war.”

            “Is that why you only ever invite Daphne and Theo _or_ Greg and Tracey over? Never all four,” I prodded and he nodded.

            “And family dinners. Pernell dumped me after a family dinner at the Parkinson’s.”

            “Is that when you proposed?”

            He shook his head. “After. One last dinner to try to make it work. I still thought he’d come around. He didn’t realize how serious I was. When his mother found out I proposed, she lost it. She told me to get out. Then Mr. Parkinson told Pernell to end it. He called it a frivolous adolescent fling and said that Pernell needed to concentrate on finding a wife, not messing around with a bloke.”

            “Pernell listened to his parents?” I asked and Draco nodded, his face scrunching up and the tears beginning to flow. I rose and wrapped my arms around him, letting him sink his face into my neck. “The Weasleys aren’t like that and I wouldn’t do that to you. I won’t leave you. And you don’t have to attend one of the Weasley family dinners unless you’re ready.”

            Draco nodded into my neck and it was another minute more before he composed himself. “Thank you. Look at me, I’m still an emotional wreck months after the birth.”

            “No, you’re doing fine. Come on, let’s get out of here. Besides, Teddy will have homework and he’ll never do it if we don’t make him,” I said, pulling Draco up and leading him towards the stairs.

            When we entered the playroom, the three boys were galloping about on old kiddy brooms that barely rose high enough in the air for their shoes to skim the carpet. They were pretending to be chasing a dragon and Cissa was watching the commotion from the safety of her little infant seat, an elf-cast shield charm surrounding her, with a stuffed dragon tucked in next to her. The merriment of the children brought a smile to Draco’s face, which in turn made me very happy to see.

            “Father, Father, look at me!” Roadrick cried, tucking his legs up under him and leaning low over the broom handle, so he wasn’t touching the ground at all. He’d copied it from Teddy, who had to fly like that or his long legs would drag on the ground on the too low broom.

            “Harry, Harry, look at me!” Broderick cried, letting go of the broom handle to throw both hands in the air.

            “Very good you three. Excellent flying all around. Now it’s time to bring it in and do some homework,” Draco replied.

            Three sets of groans followed. The twins’ old tutor was back in their lives, so they spent the morning in lessons and were typically given one easy page of homework to do. It was nice, because it meant Teddy wasn’t the only one stuck doing homework, but it could also be a chore to get them to do it.

            We spent the evening with the children, doing our usual routine of homework, dinner, baths, and bedtime stories. Teddy, as usual, went home already in his pajamas and ready to fall into bed, with an elf following with his things. Cissa was the last one to drift off to sleep after a warm bottle, since she took the most naps. And then Draco and I were finally alone, preparing for bed in his room.

            “Let’s keep it two of your friends at a time,” Draco said, leaning into me, his pajamas clutched in one hand as he prepared to change.

            “Alright,” I agreed, tacking on a silent, ‘For now,’ in my head.

            I began mentally ordering the Weasleys, trying to decide which to introduce Draco to first. Obviously Molly and Arthur were on the top of the list and I had already had Hermione over a few times. Percy would be last on any list and Charlie was almost never around, so that just left George, Bill, Ginny, Fleur, and Angelina. I’d leave my other friends, like Neville, Seamus, and Dean, until later. Much later.

            “I saw that Luna Lovegood a few years ago on the island. She was interested in our religion and the dragons. I thought she’d hate me, but she came knocking on the cave entrance and asked if she could poke her nose around Malfoy Valley. We had tea; it was nice. She said to think nothing of what happened to her; she was just grateful for the little things I’d snuck her while she was down there. She didn’t even expect me to apologize.” Not that he would apologize, which was probably one of the reasons he didn’t get along with Ron, who would expect it.

            “That’s really nice. What sort of things did you bring her?”

            “Fresh food, mostly. Sometimes warm water to wash with, towels, and changes of clothes. The elves were ordered to only bring bread and water and they cannot violate a direct order from my father.”

            “I’m glad you were there watching out for her.”

            “How about you invite her and that boyfriend of hers over instead of Weasley. Or even her and Hermione.” So that was what Draco was getting at: trying to trade dinner with Ron for dinner with Luna.

            “You do know that Ron is my best friend, right?” I asked and he nodded and sighed. “You will have to be around him eventually.”

            “But do we have to start with him? Surely you have other friends we could start with. Greg is my best mate and you always hide in the room when he comes over.”

            That was true, but only because Greg was so painfully stupid that I couldn’t stand to be around him. But then maybe that was how Draco felt about Ron. “No, we don’t have to start with him. We can invite Hermione and Luna over, but we do have to have Molly and Arthur over, or I’ll never hear the end of it.”

            Draco gulped and took a moment, before asking, “Do they hate me?”

            “No, they don’t hate you.” I was about to ask why he would think that, but then I remembered all of the things he and his family had done to the Weasleys during the war. “They are very loving and forgiving people. They just want to meet my boyfriend.”

            He nodded and I pressed a quick kiss to his lips, before he got up to use the loo before bedtime. I smiled as I watched him go, happy that he was willing to try with my adoptive family. If he was willing to try, then that meant he was serious about trying to make this relationship work out. Maybe he was even starting to have feelings for me.

            But then some of the things he’d said started to sink in and I lost the smile. It wasn’t just a large family dinner with the Weasleys he was wary of, but all large social gatherings. His reclusive behavior wasn’t just a bad habit, because he was more emotionally scarred than I’d realized. His problem was bordering on a phobia. Combined with his relationship issues from the Parkinson git and the trauma of his mother’s untimely death, and it was all adding up. Hermione had given me a pamphlet on severe emotional stress and religion, which explained that people in emotional crisis often turned to a higher power.

            That was what Draco had done by moving to Malfoy Cave and engulfing himself in the Dragon Mysticism religion. He was trying to heal himself using the dragon magic, but he was still broken in so many ways.      I would have to try harder not to knock his religion, because he seemed to need it more than I’d realized. And maybe I could get him to seek professional help. Another visit to that mind-healer might not be such a bad thing after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I promised a revelation, but once I started writing, I realized it was too soon. One of my reviewers mentioned the lack of Weasleys and that got me thinking that Harry really should have them around, or at least try to. Now I’m thinking that they should make a little more progress in their relationship first and meeting Harry’s friends and family is part of that. They need the time to get to know each other and develop a relationship built on more than lies and sex.  
> Please review!


	28. Chapter28

            Arthur and Molly took us up on our invitation to dinner. They came over Saturday evening with a fresh baked apple pie. Arthur was his usual jolly self and Molly was excited to meet Broderick and Roadrick. Teddy and Dromeda came too, to act as sort of a buffer, since they knew and got on with both sides of my family. And since Iona lived there, she also was there. Draco did start to panic when he first saw so many people filing into his house, but Iona talked him down. The lot of us sat down to a nice dinner and exchanged polite conversation around Draco. He kept rather quiet the whole time, but did answer direct questions when spoken to. It went well enough that I had hope that given time, Draco would eventually get used to the Weasley parents.

            Luna and her new boyfriend Rolf came over the following week. Dromeda and Teddy didn’t come over for that visit and Draco seemed visibly more at ease with the decreased number of people. In fact Teddy had gone home early in anticipation of the grownup gathering, since he usually stayed through Saturday night. Iona was expected to attend, but she excuse herself a few minutes in, saying she was tired and not hungry. I got the impression that our guests were not to her tastes and she was trying to be nice about it.

            There was an awkward beginning to the meal after Iona’s departure, when Luna and Rolf talked about what they were up to these days: recording the daily activity of Blibbering Humdingers. Draco, like anyone else, didn’t seem to know what they were talking about. But after about fifteen minutes, Luna brought up her time on the island with the dragons and how mystical the presence of the dragon magic had felt. Rolf was intrigued, since he hadn’t known Luna then, and Draco jumped right in telling about his religious beliefs.

            I probably should’ve paid more attention to the conversation and made an effort to understand Draco’s religion, but truthfully it bored me. Besides, the twins needed help cutting their meat and Cissa needed a bottle and a burping, so I was easily distracted. By the end of the meal, it felt more like these were Draco’s friends than mine. I thought for sure Draco would invite them to stay for an after dinner walk through the gardens or something, but he didn’t. Luna and her boyfriend were politely turned out just after dessert, same as the Weasleys had been.

            I was surprised by the sudden breakup of the dinner party, so I wanted a word with Draco. He was in the middle of the twin’s bath time, hiding behind the door so as not to get wet by the aberrant splashes; three year olds were always messy bathers. I came up to him, Cissa on my shoulder as I coaxed a burp from her, and asked, “Was there a reason Rolf and Luna had to go? You all seemed to be getting on. Couldn’t they have stayed a little longer?”

            “What?” Draco asked, peeking through the crack of the door to supervise the bath. “Longer? Why would we want anyone to stay longer?”

            “Because making new friends is nice and you all were having fun,” I offered.

            “But you weren’t and besides, I had baths to see to.”

            “I was happy just that you were hitting it off.”

            “Well you looked as bored as a first year in History of Magic. We spent dinner with them; we don’t need them to move in or anything.”

            “Would you have asked them to stay longer if they were your friends?”

            “No. If they were my friends, I’d have them over for tea and kick them out before dinner. Your friends are the ones who think a full meal is necessary. An hour of chatter is enough.”

            Well as long as he wasn’t shortchanging the guests because they were my friends that was all I could ask for. Thus I dropped the subject, but I did insist that Ron and Hermione be invited over the next week.

            Teddy stayed this time, his grandmother and Draco’s grandmother going out to have tea with some of their mutual old lady friends. Teddy ran up to Ron and Hermione immediately for hugs. The twins had followed after him, but both paused in the doorway. Draco greeted Hermione cordially, but his tone turned cold when he greeted Ron.

            “Brodie, Roadie, you remember Auntie Hermione? And this in Uncle Ron,” I introduced.

            “My uncle?” Roadrick asked, eyeing Ron’s red hair. Anything red was his.

            “Not my uncle,” Broderick insisted, hesitant around the stranger. Ron was a pretty tall imposing figure, especially since Auror training had buffed him up.

            “Weasley is not their uncle,” Draco said dryly.

            “Hold up, Malfoy. If that one wants me to be his uncle, then why can’t I be his uncle? I’m Cissa’s uncle,” Ron retorted.

            “You are _not_ Cissa’s uncle. You are merely her dad’s friend,” Draco retorted.

            “Now Draco, I _would_ like Ron to be Cissa’s uncle,” I said.

            “Ron, remember you said you’d play nice?” Hermione prodded.

            “And I would like Greg for a brother too, but we are both only children. I would rather not confuse friends and family friends with family,” Draco insisted.

            “And Hermione? They’ve already been calling her Auntie,” I replied.

            “Harry, can I talk to you in the other room about this,” Draco said, pulling my arm. I nodded and handed Cissa over to Hermione.

            Draco called out, “Sotty, see everyone into the dining room,” before leading me down the hallway.

            We went through Voldemort’s drawing room and into the library, the door shutting itself behind us. Draco paced a few times and huffed, before turning on me and saying, “I wish you would have discussed this with me first, Harry.”

            “I’m sorry, but the Weasleys are the only family I have. I really do want Ron and Hermione to be the children’s aunt and uncle and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley to be their grandparents,” I said.

            “That’s not how family works. You are stuck with the ones you’re born with. You cannot just go around willy-nilly making your own. The children have family. They have you and me. They have my father and my grandmother. And although they are dead, they have my mother and your parents. I don’t want their memories erased by replacing them.”

            “Their memories won’t be erased. We’ll still tell the children about your mum all the time. We’ll show them her pictures and share her with them. I don’t have a problem with that,” I said, fairly certain that my parents weren’t the issue here; his mother was and always would be. “But I never knew my parents. Molly and Arthur Weasley are the only ones who ever cared about me and took me in. I _did_ create my own family, because I didn’t have any of my own. The Weasleys _are_ my family.” There was Sirius too, but he was dead and I left him out for simplicity’s sake.

            “I want Cissa to know about James and Lily Potter too. They are part of her heritage,” Draco said and I nodded. He paused, thinking about it, before he continued. “You had family in school. You lived with them. What happened to them?”

            “They were in a safe house during the war to protect them from Death Eaters,” I relayed the facts as I was told. It was a jarring story and worse considering how many years I had spent with them, but I didn’t love them and so kept myself emotionally detached from it all. “They were muggles; they couldn’t defend themselves. The safe house was broken into and the Aurors defending them killed. My Aunt and Uncle attempted to block the way and fight, but they couldn’t defend themselves against magic and were killed almost instantly. My uncle, however, was a big man and his body apparently caused some trouble. His blubber literally blocked the doorway, giving my cousin Dudley time to run. He got away and found his Aunt Marge. Marge isn’t actually related to me and hates me, but loves him. She was horrified, packed up her dogs, and took Dudley to safety in Canada. I got a letter from him a couple of years ago saying that he was getting married.”

            “How horrible. Absolutely horrible,” he said and I nodded my silent agreement. He seemed more shaken up about the story than I’d ever been, but then he didn’t know how I felt about my aunt and uncle. He assumed they had raised me properly. After several minutes he recovered, shaking his head. “That is the extent of your family? One cousin in Canada whom you rarely communicate with?”

            “Yes.”

            “So the Weasleys mean a lot to you then?”

            “Yes.”

            He sighed and looked away, before turning back to me and nodding. “Alright, but just the four Weasleys: Hermione, Molly, Arthur, and…I guess Ronald,” he said grudgingly.

            “Thank you, this means a lot to me,” I said, wrapping my arms around him and squeezing excitedly.

            “I’m only doing this because they mean so much to you. And you better not start adding more relatives. You’re already on a slippery slope, because you did this to me with Teddy too.”

            “But you love Teddy.”

            Draco nodded. “But you sprung him on me and didn’t give me the chance to think about it beforehand. Now you have added five people to the family. That’s enough. I must insist that you leave it there. All of the other far-flung Weasleys are not included in this compromise.”

            I could live with that. Ron, Hermione, Molly, Arthur, and Teddy were really all I needed. The other Weasleys could be family friends, or the relatives of family; they didn’t need to be aunts and uncles to our shared children. Thus I showed Draco my appreciation with a snog.

            By the time Draco and I made it back to the dining room, breathless from the impromptu snog, everyone was already sitting down at the round table with bowls of soup in front of them. Ron, who was good with children, had Roadrick sitting next to him and Broderick sitting after. Cissa was in her new highchair between Hermione and Teddy; too little to eat, but now old enough to watch. Draco went to sit next to Broderick, but I reckoned that was too close to Ron, so I nudged him over to the seat by Teddy. I took the seat next to Broderick for myself, mindful that it would mean keeping the twins in line.

            “So Harry, how were Luna and… Rolf, is it?” Hermione asked, filling the awkward void.

            “Good. They are working on Blibbering Humdingers now,” I supplied.

            “That’s good…” Hermione said hesitantly. She had a harder time than the rest of us when it came to ignoring Luna’s imaginations.

            “I win race today,” Broderick bragged, not knowing that the adults were experiencing a very awkward meal.

            “You did? That’s wonderful Broderick,” Draco supplied readily.

            “Yeah, really great,” I added. Ron, Hermione, and Teddy murmured their agreement. Roadie didn’t, since his brother winning by default meant that he had lost.

            “My test get A. Mr. Wilson say I good at adding,” Roadrick said, beaming at the praise he knew was about to come. Mr. Wilson was the new tutor Draco had coming over in the mornings. Draco valued academic progress more than physical progress, so an A on a math test outranked winning a race.

            We all obliged, cheering Roadie on. There was nothing else to talk about that wouldn’t start an argument between Draco and Ron, so the conversation stayed focused on the children. Brodie had only gotten a B on his math test, which Draco wasn’t nearly so happy with. Teddy had taken a spelling test today and barely passed, but his speech therapist did say that his lisp was much improved. Teddy’s front teeth were halfway in now and everyone could hear the difference. We complimented his speech and said he would do better on the spelling next time.

            When the main coarse arrived, there was a lull in the conversation again as we all picked up our forks to eat. Ron, who shoveled his food in, was the first one done. He leaned back and eyed Draco. Before I could intervene, he blurted out, “So Malfoy, why was it that you refused to evacuate the island, putting your two young sons in danger?”

            “Ron!” Hermione hissed.

            “He couldn’t leave while pregnant,” I interceded on Draco’s behalf. I knew that he’d be offended by the question and might snarl the answer if left to himself.

            “Yeah, but before that. When you first got there, Harry, he could’ve taken your portkey and come here,” Ron blundered on. Hermione smacked him on the arm and gave him a look that clearly indicated she thought he should leave it.

            “You are a complete and utter imbecile,” Draco started in his nicest, most pleasant voice, which was a direct contrast to his words.

            “Draco,” I chastised, grabbing his elbow for emphasis. “Not in front of the children.”

            “Just let me explain this one thing,” Draco replied, head turning to me. He seemed calm and under control, so I nodded. “There was no warning when the fighting started. The Ministry locked down the island before any of us knew that we were in a war zone. I would have left right then and taken my children to safety, if I _had_ a safe means off of the island. By the time Harry here came _three months_ later, it was too late. My estrus cycle had already started, I’d already been visited by the Dragon Spirits, and I feared I was pregnant. Turns out I wasn’t, yet, but I soon was. Do you know what would have happened to me if I’d left the island on that first night?”

            “No,” Ron answered, not fully understanding what Draco had said so far and having no idea where this was going.

            “The same thing that happened to me when I returned after giving birth. The female organs cannot exist without the support of dragon magic. They would have turned necrotic, just like they ended up doing. I almost died, only by then I was no longer thinking clearly and I thought it would be okay. Back when Harry first came, I _was_ thinking clearly, and I knew that leaving at that moment could be potentially fatal to me. I didn’t think the terrorists could breach my defenses, so I choose to stay put and keep my children with me. They were two years old and I was the only parent they ever knew, so I thought it’d be easier on them to stay with me. And we had the bare essentials in that cave; food, water, milk, chickens, and sunlight,” Draco finished.

            “Sunlight?” Hermione asked.

            “Yes, in the farm room sunlight was charmed to shine.” Hermione looked fascinated, so Draco continued, “It’s a transference charm. The sunlight that falls on the surface of the cliff above is transferred to the largest cavern in the system. That is how we grow our own food and also where the playground is set up.”

            “Right, so you had everything but people,” Ron muttered. I could tell he was trying to concede the point, but he did it in a way that still angered Draco.

            “That couldn’t be helped. It wasn’t safe to leave,” Draco said.

            Only a few of the islanders had gotten out without my help and those were all adult witches and wizards who lived by the coast. I didn’t expect him to have found his own way out with a pair of toddlers. And that first portkey had gone off while I was severely burned from that dragon attack. He would have had to leave me to die alone if he’d taken it. Not that he was planning on taking it, but still, it was a moot point.

            I rose my hands up in the air and said, “Can we drop this? Let’s talk about something else, yeah?”

            “Yes, let’s do,” Hermione replied.

            “Please excuse me. I need to change my daughter’s nappy,” Draco said, rising from the table just as dessert arrived.

            Draco retrieved Cissa, who did indeed stink, and left the room. I let him go and hoped he’d return, but he didn’t. After dessert, I asked Ron and Hermione to leave, before ushering the boys upstairs.

            I found Draco in the loo, giving Cissa a bath. The boys went ahead to the playroom, as I knocked on the bathroom door and let myself in. “Draco?” I asked.

            “Yes, Harry?” he returned.

            “Are you alright? You aren’t still mad about what Ron said, are you?”

            “I’m a little upset,” Draco said, looking up at me, but keep two firm hands on our daughter in the tub. Cissa could sit now and was in one of those baby rings to keep her from falling, but he didn’t entirely trust it or her, so he always held on. “If that’s what Weasley was thinking about me, everyone else might be thinking the same. And how many people did he repeat his accusations to?”

            “Honestly, I don’t think he’s ever voiced those thoughts before. If he had to me, I would’ve corrected him. I know you would never put any of the children in danger if you could prevent it.”

            He sagged in relief and went back to washing the baby.

            “There was one part I didn’t understand though,” I continued.

            “What?”

            “You said something about some sort of cycle…that’s why you couldn’t leave on that first portkey?”

            “Yes.”

            When he didn’t take the hint and explain, I prodded, “Well I don’t understand. What cycle?”

            “It’s an estrus cycle, like in dragons. I can’t menstruate; I’m not a witch. But on the island, a wizard who wants to bear children can will the estrus cycle to begin. It starts six to eight weeks before the pregnancy with the generation of required female organs. The cycle ends sometime following the pregnancy, when the organs are reabsorbed. When you showed up, I was already seven weeks in and the Dragon Spirits had already visited me twice, once to signal the start of the process, and once more that should have, you know, taken care of conception. I didn’t know it didn’t take until I found myself waking up in bed with you.”

            Well that explained a lot.

            “Alright, I think I understand now. I know things didn’t go well with Ron tonight, but could we give it another go in a few weeks?” I asked hopefully.

            “Do we have too? Can’t we have the Weasley parents over again or some of your other friends? You do have other friends, I know.”

            “Yes, I do and we can have Molly and Arthur over next if you’d like. I could get one of the guys to come over the following week, but you will have to see Ron again.”

            “Alright, but not right away, yeah?”

            “Yeah, not right away,” I agreed.

            The animosity ran deep between Draco and Ron and it would take time to resolve. It was enough for now that Draco was willing to see Mr. and Mrs. Weasley again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had this chapter almost ready a few weeks ago, but then I took very ill. The night I had planned on finishing it, I ended up in my school’s infirmary. They wanted to admit me for the night, but that sounded rather boring and I don’t like IVs, so I left. I’ve slowly been getting better, but it’s taking a long time.  
> So now I think I really am ready to write the chapter where Draco finds out the truth…  
> Please Review!


	29. Chapter29

            Things were going so well and then one day it happened. Draco and I were continuing to live in Malfoy Manor and dating. We were getting along better than ever. He was still making an effort to get to know my friends and family, and he was even making progress with Ron. It helped that Ron had apologized for acting like an arse, blamed his behavior on post-traumatic stress disorder from the war with the terrorists, and started counseling. It also helped that in the weeks that followed, Ron’s role in shoring up the Ministry’s tentative hold on the island was leaked to the press and that Ron had personally saved over a dozen dragons from the terrorists. The dragons were important to Draco and he was grateful to anyone who helped.

            “Harry, I was just noticing I don’t have a birth certificate for Cissa. I don’t remember receiving the owl with it either. Do you, perchance, have it?” Draco asked, reading his parchment with his to-do list. Naptime was his time to get shit done.

            I had flopped down on the sofa in Draco’s personal drawing room after getting Cissa down for her afternoon nap. Draco had just seen to the twins, who took longer to settle, but he was used to it and thus still full of energy. This was the time each day he typically devoted to handling adult matters. He had come in, gone straight to his desk, and sat down to sort scrolls of parchment.

            We had had an active Thursday morning with taking the three children to the healer’s for shots, in honor of me having the whole day off. It wasn’t the best way to spend the time off, but I did want to be there for Cissa’s checkup to see how much she’d grown and how she was doing in comparison to other babies. And since Teddy didn’t have the day off, it wasn’t fair to him to go anywhere fun. Broderick and Roadrick had also received their annual vaccinations, so Draco had asked for the help and I had agreed to go.

            The nice thing about being an Auror was the personal days. The department mandated that each Auror who had been out in the conflict on the Hebrides Island was to take the time to be checked over by a psychiatrist. Or, in the case of those already diagnosed with post-traumatic stress disorder, like Ron, go in for a counseling session. I’d been out longer than the rest of the lot, so I’d gotten my clear evaluation months ago. I didn’t require any further counseling, thus I had the day off free and clear of any Ministry obligations.

            I had in fact received the birth certificate in question and hidden it inside Grimmauld Place. It listed our daughter’s middle name as Isis, which would be an instant giveaway of my lies. I knew Draco would never agree to the name and would know he hadn’t agreed, simply because it wasn’t his mother’s name. He wanted our daughter to have his mother’s first and middle names. This would be the catalyst that would expose me, because if he knew about that, he’d put two and two together and come up with a big fat pack of my lies.

            If I could go back and change things, I would’ve stuck with the middle name Draco had chosen. I didn’t mind the name Maia and if it would prevent me from being found out, I’d gladly switch. After all, my daughter didn’t need to be named after my godfather, Sirius, but she did need a father. The problem with that was that _both_ parents had to sign the form to change any part of a child’s name. In changing it, I’d have to give myself away.

            Therefore I’d hidden the birth certificate and hoped Draco would never see it. In hindsight, that was rather a lapse on my part. Of course there would come a time when he’d need it; he was her father and parents occasionally needed proof of that type thing, like for the start of school. Only Cissa wasn’t due to start school for years and the thought had slipped my mind.

            Now that he was asking about it, wildly absurd plans began to race through my mind. I should have forged his signature or broken in the records office and changed it. I could’ve somehow tricked Draco into signing the form, ambushing him when he was too busy to read it and didn’t know what he was signing. I could’ve forged the middle name on the real birth certificate, to superficially make it appear as if her middle name was Maia instead of Isis, and used a Ministry owl to deliver it to Draco. I should have done something. But it was too late, because I’d already done nothing and now he was asking.

            “No, I haven’t seen it. They must have forgotten to send it or it got lost,” I answered.

            “I’ll just order another copy,” Draco said with a casual shrug, not realizing that he had me by the ballocks. He walked to his desk and reached out for a quill.

            I interceded, knocking his arm away from the quill as I forced my body between his and the desk, wrapping my arms around him. I nuzzled his neck and asked, “Why do you have to do that right now?” Then I kissed and sucked on his neck, wedging my knee in between his legs to rub his cock. It wasn’t often that we had time alone together. Between the three and a half children and my job, romantic time was at a premium. We both had active sex drives, so this tactic often worked when it came to distracting him. Plus it had wonderful benefits.

            Pushing me away, Draco said, “Harry, stop.” But I didn’t stop and kept trying to entice him into bed. I kissed him on the mouth and tried to insert my tongue between his lips, but for once it didn’t work. He indulged my attempt at a snog only for a few seconds, before he pushed me away again. “Stop. I want to do this before I forget.”

            Nipping at Draco’s neck, I whispered, “It’s not very often that we are alone and all three children are down for a nap at the same time. Join me for a quick shag and do that later.” I rocked my body back and forth against his, eliciting a positive reaction. I felt him growing hard against me. He moaned loudly and arched his back, pushing against me. I almost had him.

            “No. You know I don’t like it when it’s quick. You’ll just take care of yourself and leave me wanting with a hard on, when you know the boys climb all over me.”

            He had me there. I did know he liked to take his time and enjoy being stretched and pounded. He was never one for a quickie. He always wanted at least a good hour or he wasn’t fully satisfied. If I came early, it was then my responsibility to finger him, use a dildo, or occasionally produce a second erection. Unfortunately, the last option became more difficult with age, but as long as he was agreeable to the first two options, everything was fine. The problem came when there wasn’t time for it and he was left sexually frustrated.

            I tried one more time to distract him with a kiss and a change of topic. “Why do you want it right now? We won’t need it for years. You could do that later and let me suck you off right now.” I nipped at his ear for emphasis, still rocking against him. He enjoyed it when I sucked his cock and used a dildo on him at the same time. If I was coordinated enough and used my free hand on his nipples at the same time, I could get him to cum in a much shorter time than the average. The only problem being that we wouldn’t have enough time for him to reciprocate, nor would I have the free hand to wank. Still, I could take care of myself quickly with the right stimulation and making him cum always provided enough stimulation.

            Draco pushed at my chest again and turned his head to the side. He wasn’t pushing me hard, so he didn’t break the physical contact between us. He remained in my arms and spoke into my neck, “No, I want to get everything settled. I want everything ready for when we go back to the island.”

            “You want to go back? But the war…”

            “Is ending.”

            “It’s too dangerous. And think of the children!”

            “For now. Eventually it will be safe again and I am thinking of the children; I want them to grow up on the island.”

            “Why not raise them here, where you grew up? I love this house,” I lied. I didn’t really care for it, because sometimes I still remembered memories of it from the war. Most of the time we avoided the area of the house Voldemort had used, but it was impossible to avoid completely when guests came over. Any evidence of the dark wizard was long since gone, but Draco hadn’t felt right about redecorating. He’d let his grandmother, Iona, make minor cosmetic changes, rearranging the furniture and portraits and changing the wallpaper. But under it all, it was still the same house with the same rooms and sometimes the unpleasant memories returned.

            “No, I want to try again without you interfering.”

            “Try what again? What do you mean without me?”

            “Reincarnating my mother. Cissa is close, but she’s part you. If I try it again without you, I could make a baby that’s just me. Then my mother really could come back to me.”

            “No, it doesn’t work like that Draco!” I pleaded, realizing that Draco was still plagued with the irrational delusions that had caused him to be out in that cave in the first place. “Remember, your father said it doesn’t work like that. If you have a child by yourself, it can only be identical to you. Look at the twins, they aren’t your biological sons, but your identical clones. If you go back and try again, you will only get another set of twins exactly like the last.”

            Cloning was a herbology concept that I made sure to emphasize whenever it came up. We’d had a few romantic strolls through Neville Longbottom’s extensive gardens, which included a handful of examples. In each case, a cutting from one plant was used to create identical copies, just like Draco’s body had somehow created two identical copies in the form of Broderick and Roadrick. Another round of cloning would only produce another pair of blond haired, grey eyed, pointy-faced, rambunctious, high-spirited, boys. I loved the twins, but I didn’t want another pair of them.

            Draco was silent and I could see the wheels turning in his head as he thought about it. His own father had told him everything I had just said, so he knew it was true. It just took him time to process and accept it. Eventually he came to the conclusion, “Then you and I will have to try for another. She will look like Cissa, but won’t be a metamorphmagus.”

            I gasped in surprise at the news that Draco wanted to have my child again. My initial desire to cure him of his delusions was instantly overruled by the potential of having another little princess in our lives. I loved children and there was something enthralling about the idea of having another child of my own. Reproducing a piece of Draco, myself, and my parents into a perfect little package, recombining our traits into an entirely new combination. I preferred a girl, since I considered myself to have three sons: Teddy, Broderick, and Roadrick were all as good as mine. Maybe this time we could have a little raven haired daughter. He would insist on a girl anyway, because he wanted a child similar to his mother.

            “Alight,” I agreed. The possible benefit was great enough to allow the risk. Plus I could think of no other choice. He had a right to our daughter’s records and continuing my protest would just draw attention to my deceit all the sooner. By acquiescing, I delayed the inevitable, placing all my hope in the slim possibility that it would never come to be. There was still the minute chance he wouldn’t look closely at the birth certificate. He might just file it away without noticing. Or I might intercept the delivery owl with the new one and forge the middle name. I could do that with the first copy now, but unless I also intercepted the next copy, I would still be found out.

            I held him tight and followed him, even as he moved towards his desk. Eventually I had no choice but to let him send his request for a copy. I cringed as I watched him write the note and tie it to the leg of his owl. I would never wish harm on an innocent animal, but I wished harm on that owl. If it just had a heart attack and died without reaching its destination, I’d be in the clear. Or if there was some other mishap that prevented delivery, such as a storm destroying the scroll, then the inevitable would be delayed. And if the owl itself wasn’t harmed in the process, then all the better.

            At this point, it was out of my hands and all I could do was wait and hope. Maybe this storm might just blow over. I didn’t have time to dwell on it then, because the owl wasn’t even off before life came crashing down around me in the form of the children.

            First it was Roadrick crying, waking up with a wet bed after having a bad dream. The commotion woke Broderick up and Cissa woke up soon after. Then Andromeda popped up in the floo, fire-calling about a talk she’d just had with Teddy’s speech therapist. The good news was that Teddy’s speech had improved remarkably this year. The bad news was that there was a bully at school teasing the child about the continued slight lisp. Teddy was understandably upset and I agreed that he should floo over for a bit of extra reassurance from me. Then there were four children in the house and that took up all of my time. I put the owl out of my mind and dealt with the current moment, appreciating the time I had with my children while it lasted.

            And I could still do something to prevent the discovery, if I kept alert and vigilant and managed to intercept the owl. This wasn’t necessarily the end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So there’s the buildup to the end. All that is left is the resolution, which will come in the next chapter. It’s all been building for so long now that I hope it lives up to expectations.  
> Please Review!


	30. Chapter30

            Unfortunately, the owl didn’t die. The Ministry took a month to process the request, because like all governments, they were nothing if not slow and inefficient. I had begun to hope that somehow the request had gotten lost; obviously the owl had come back alive, but there were any number of other things that could’ve happened. It was rather common for the Ministry’s paper pushers to lose things. Why was it that when I actually wanted something lost was the one time when it wasn’t?

            I’d decided against breaking into the records office or finding some other way of hiding what I’d done. Ultimately my conscious had won and every scheme I thought up, I pushed aside, thinking that I couldn’t bear to tell one more lie. I hadn’t told any new lies in a while, because the topic of the period of time surrounding Cissa’s birth just didn’t come up all that often anymore. When it did, it was always the same facts and lies we’d already established. And without any new lies, I began to feel like I was telling the truth.

            I was deluding myself, it’s true. I let myself forget about the request for the duplicate birth certificate. I let myself believe that Draco and I had an honest relationship based on love and truth. I concentrated on building up our relationship and didn’t think about how it was all a house of cards, ready to come tumbling down. And whenever an event is kept off of one’s mind, it creeps up all the faster.

            One of Draco’s favorite things to do on a rainy day was to go outside and play with the children in the fountain in the garden. If too cold, he casts warming charms to protect from hypothermia. With the warmth and the raindrops splattering down against heated skin, it’s like running through the sprinklers on a hot sunny day, minus the sunshine. That’s what we were all outside doing when the owl came.

            Broderick and Roadrick were running merrily around the water at the base of the fountain in nothing but their skivvies; thin barreled chests indicative of youth sticking out into the rain. Cissa was in nothing but a nappy, happily bouncing on Draco’s knee. Draco himself was sitting in the fountain in swim shorts, letting the rain pour in his face. I was sitting on the edge of the fountain in muggle shorts, watching the scene.

            I didn’t realize the owl was from the Ministry nor what that scroll of parchment contained, or I would’ve jumped up and intercepted the bird. As it was, the owl flew straight to Draco and landed on his shoulder. He pushed Cissa off to me, so that he could handle the owl. I got lost in tickling her for a moment and looked up only when he was silent for too long. He had an umbrella charm up, protecting the parchment, his mouth hanging open, and a look of shock upon his face.

            “What is it?” I asked.

            “Cissa’s birth certificate,” Draco answered.

            “Oh.”

            “Oh?”

            I caught myself and thought fast on my toes. “Um, why don’t you hand it to me and I’ll take it inside so that it doesn’t get ruined in this rain.”

            “So you know?”

            “Know what?” Evidentially my mind wasn’t as fast as I liked to think.

            “That her middle name is Isis.”

            “Er, no,” I tried to lie, but knew immediately by the look on his face that I was caught. “I mean yes. You agreed to let me name her after my godfather, Sirius, too. This way she’s named after people we both loved and lost.”

            “But I would never name my child that. Regardless of your relationship with your godfather, I have planned, since my mother’s death, on naming my first born daughter after her. Maia was my mother’s middle name and also the name of a goddess and a star. Isis may be a goddess and a star too, but it’s the wrong one.”

            “Look, we can change it if you want.”

            “But what was I thinking to agree in the first place?”

            “I don’t know. You weren’t thinking clearly then, remember?”

            Draco was puzzled at first, but then the expression on his face changed, turning down. His mood shifted, no longer happy, but serious. “The dreams are true then. I did reject my daughter. She was born with red hair.”

            “Red isn’t her natural hair color though; it’s blond most of the time, so that’s the natural color.”

            “By that logic, Teddy’s natural hair color is blue.” There was a pregnant pause, before Draco continued. “I noticed you didn’t try to deny it.”

            And then I knew the game was up. He knew the truth that I had lied. “You didn’t mean any of it. Your hormones were imbalanced. You were mentally ill.”

            “We didn’t start dating until after we returned to the mainland, did we? You made our relationship up. You tricked me into dating you.”

            “Yes.” I finally admitted. There was no point in denying it further. “So I guess it’s over then, yeah?”

            Draco blinked and replied, “Wait, so _you_ lied to _me_ and now _you_ want to break up with _me_? It doesn’t work that way, Harry.”

            “Huh?” What he was saying was just so unexpected that I didn’t understand it at first.

           “Didn’t you specifically tell me you wouldn’t leave me?”

            “Huh?”

            “You’re breaking up with me. That’s what you just said.”

            “You mean you don’t want to break up with me? Even though I lied to you?”

            “No. Why would I?” he asked and I let out a gasp of relief. “I want to smash my _own_ head in for being so stupid. You, on the other hand, didn’t reject my perfect little princess. You even took care of her while I was out of my mind. You lied to me to make me feel better, so I don’t really see what you’re so hung up about, Harry.”

            “Yes, but I still lied and tricked you into going out with me.”

            Draco looked at me with a dumbfounded expression on his face, before speaking. “Is there something I’m missing here? At some point during that period I can’t remember did I _ever_ say to you that if you trick me into dating you with a lie and then that lie was discovered, that our relationship would automatically be over? Did I tell you I expect honesty above all else or something?”

            “No, but…”

            “If you expect me to be honest with you, even when it would put my children’s wellbeing in jeopardy, then we might as well split now, because that’s never going to happen. My children come first with me and I thought it was the same with you, but if I was wrong…”

            “No, you’re not wrong. Cissa comes first with me too; Broderick, Roadrick, and Teddy too. I just assumed…” I said trailing off, as his gaze grew more and more pointed.

            “You assumed what? That I’m some Gryffindor? That I’m one of your Weasleys? That I don’t expect you to lie to me whenever it’s for my own good? Because if that’s the case, you certainly don’t know me very well.”

            “Right. Er, I’m sorry? It’s just Hermione had me convinced that it was wrong not to tell you and that you’d want to know. Give me another chance?” I begged, getting down on my knees and taking his hand in mine. “Please? For Cissa’s sake?”

            “Alright, on two conditions.” And then as an aside, Draco added under his breath, “I can’t believe you thought Granger would know what I’d think.”

            “Name ‘em.”

            “Don’t expect me to be one hundred percent honest with you. I will lie to you when it’s convenient for me to do so. If you catch me lying, you can’t break up with me for it. Maybe you can be mad and sleep in another room for a night, but if a relationship between you and me is going to last, then there has to be some white lies to smooth it over.”

            I looked into his eyes as I considered his proposal. Was I okay with him lying to me? Could I really just give him a blanket pass to lie whenever he wanted? Was he right that some lies were necessary? And then I thought of Cissa, who had her father in her life, thanks to a lie. I thought of all these brilliant months of happiness that were made possible by a lie. It wasn’t just a little lie, because our entire relationship was built on that lie. And in the end, it was all worth it and we were all better off believing that lie. In my heart, I was a Slytherin when I needed to be and that includes lying when necessary.

            “Okay,” I agreed.

            “Okay?” he asked.

            “Yes, okay. If it’s for the benefit of the children, I want you to lie to me.”

            “And what if it’s just because I’m a selfish prick?”

            I thought about that for a moment before answering. “As long as you haven’t killed anyone, cheated on me, or done something to hurt the children, I promise to forgive you. Otherwise, it’ll probably have to be a case by case basis. I won’t break up with you, unless it’s something _really bad_ , like you’re a mass murderer, but I probably will be mad at you and sleep in the other room.”

            “Good.”

            “What’s the other condition?” I asked hesitantly.

            “Attend a pureblood ethics class. You obviously haven’t a clue about proper ethics and if you are going to be a proper pureblood parent, you need to learn.”

            Taking a class on ethics didn’t sound like a big deal. In fact, I thought Draco was the one who needed that class and that I’d sail right through; after all I was the boy wizard who had been awarded points in the Twiwizard Tournament for, “Outstanding moral fiber.” If I could do that, I could pass a class on ethics if I tried.

            “Alright, I’ll do it. So we’re good then?”

            “Yes,” Draco said, leaning in for a kiss. After a few moments, he pulled back. “Can we tell the world your story about those three weeks?”

            “Yes, of course. But, um…”

            “What?”

            “Your father and grandmother and the Weasleys already know the truth.”

            “Then don’t tell them I found out the truth. If they bring it up, remind them that I don’t remember it and mention that that mind healer said I was mentally ill and not to be blamed.”

            I smiled, placed a quick peck on his lips, and said, “Deal.” It would mean more lying, but it was a lie I’d already told.

            And with that settled, our lives went back to normal. Well almost normal. Draco was a bit moody and sulky at finding out his worst nightmares were true. He definitely was more upset at himself than he was at me. I found him talking to his mother’s portrait more often than he used to and there were more frequent visit to see his father. Even all of his friends made their rounds by the house within the following week, because it seemed Draco wanted to talk. Exactly what they all talked about I do not know, because Draco kept the conversations private. I suspect they talked about me and our relationship, but I didn’t get the impression that Draco actually told anyone new about my lies.

            In the end the conclusion seemed clear: Draco wasn’t leaving me and our relationship was tentatively on the right track for the first time. Maybe we could make this work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It seems a bit anticlimactic, but I always planned on Draco reacting this way. There is one chapter left: the move back to the island and the epilogue.  
> Please Review!


	31. Chapter31

            As promised, I went to ethics class as a punishment for lying. I hated the Machiavellian philosophy they taught, but it was good to know what fucked up philosophies constituted ethics in the pureblood world. I didn’t have to agree with it; I only had to learn about it and pass the class, which I did. It was worth it to have my family happy and together. And it was better to know what I am up against, so that I can counter pureblood teaching when it comes to my children. Draco didn’t need to know my reasons.

            Draco was happy with me after that, all lies forgiven. The only problem was that _I_ wasn’t happy with _me_. I still felt guilty. There was still something that wasn’t quite right. Draco was happy and he obviously loved and adored all our children. I even thought he loved me. But, he was still heartbroken and still obsessed with reincarnating his mother. He talked about her all the time. He incessantly talked about her being in Cissa. And he frequently talked about returning to the island to have another daughter, so that his mother could be reincarnated again. He was still that little boy missing the most important person to him.

            And that was only one half to Draco’s emotional problem, because there was also the horrible breakup with Pernell Parkinson. From what I’d found out so far, it seemed to me that Pernell had never really returned Draco’s feelings, even though Draco had loved the wizard deeply. To Parkinson, their relationship was about getting their rocks off, while Draco was in it for the long hall, wanting true love, marriage, and children. The breakup with Parkinson, and not just the loss of a boyfriend, but the way the relationship was severed and specifically the religious anti-gay reasons the Parkinson family had for encouraging the end to the relationship had deeply affected him.

            All that bullshite and crap Draco had gone through in the past five or six years landed on a mental platform that was already shaky, having been compromised during the war. He’d been forced to take the Dark Mark and to attempt the murder of Dumbledore, under threat of torture and death, or both himself and his parents. He’d had to spend summers with Bellatrix Lestrange learning occlumency and who knew what else; the witch probably crucioed him just for the fun of it. He’d also had to attend Death Eater meetings and bear witness to such atrocities as a Hogwarts teacher being eaten by Nagini. Sure, Draco had been so eager for that life going in, but it was obvious that he wasn’t cut out for it. He disliked murder and torture and the fact that he had trouble putting all of those bad memories behind him contributed to his mental instability.

            The longer we were together, the more I got to know him, and the more I realized how deep his emotional scars were and the extent of his phobias. He didn’t like the term phobia, because he could still _do_ the things that bothered him; they just bothered him to do or think about doing them. If you asked him, he just didn’t like going out shopping anymore, but really he didn’t like doing so without his mother, since they always went together. He didn’t want to have supper at the Weasleys, because there were too many of them and he wasn’t particularly fond of any of them. But really the issue was the strange house, which he was uncomfortable being in due to safety concerns that were on the paranoid side of the scale. And then there were the Weasleys themselves, who Draco was apprehensive about confronting. He knew he ought to apologize, man up, and get it over with, but that was not how he’d been taught. Lucius would never had allowed Draco to capitulate and admit his mistakes. That left Draco in a mental tug-a-war between honoring his father’s teachings and making amends to those his family had harmed,

            Draco had been making an effort to get to know my friends and adoptive family. We were still having a few over every Saturday. He’d started making more of an effort to invite his friends over when I was around, so that I could get to know them. I didn’t particularly like the Goyles, but I grew to tolerate them and realize that they were mostly good-hearted. The Notts were downright decent folk, somehow skirting the blood-traitor edge, without ever getting caught doing or saying something so blatant as to get themselves kicked out of pureblood society. The Notts I became close with.

            The conflict with the terrorists was wrapping up, the Ministry was preparing to turn the island over from the Auror Guard to the Post-War Clean-Up and Restoration Division, a department formed in the aftermath of the war with Voldemort. And Draco and the other residents were making plans to pick up the pieces of their lives and return to the island. I was willing to move to the island permanently, but there was one matter I felt had to be dealt with first.

            I waited until I had some time alone with Draco one Saturday morning. Broderick and Roadrick were on a playdate over at the Nott’s house. Teddy was at a picnic at the Weasleys. Cissa was down for a nap. And Iona had gone by herself to visit Lucius over at the jail, since she enjoyed spending time with her son by herself. Draco and I were alone in the house, with not even a house elf in sight.

            He was sitting at his desk in his study, going over the records of damages to Malfoy Valley he’d been sent by the Ministry, making plans to have his property cleaned up and repaired. I was standing over his shoulder, occasionally snatching a photo of the valley to examine for myself. Truth be told, the damage to Malfoy Valley was on the lite side, compared to what had been done to other parts of the island. There were two dead dragons carcasses lying on the valley floor, quite a bit of scorched ground cover, and a few uprooted trees, but the new dragon claw marks and burnt rock was virtually indistinguishable from the older marks left behind from millennia of dragon inhabitation. And Malfoy Cave itself, with its various wards and protections, was completely untouched.

            I took in a deep breath, nervous that this might come out wrong and piss him off. Then I placed the photo I’d been looking at back on the stack on his desk and asked, “Draco, can we talked?”

            “Mhmm, just a moment,” he replied, scratching off a few last notes. Then he put down his quill and turned to look at me, examining my face. “Right, let’s move to the sitting room.”

            He got up and I followed him over to the sitting room, joining him on the sofa. “What did you want to talk about?” he asked.

            I nodded and began to speak carefully, mindful that one misplaced word could have the wrong effect, “You know I agreed to go back to the island with you, right?” He nodded and waited for me to continue. I took a big breath. “Well there is something I want you to do for me before we go.”

            “And that is?” he prompted, raising a curious eyebrow.

            “I want you to start attending grief counseling. I know what it’s like to lose someone close to me. Not my parents, because I can’t remember ever having them, but I lost a lot of other people. One of the hardest for me was my godfather Sirius. He was the only real parental figure I ever had and I didn’t have him for nearly as long as you had your mother. I’m sure you two were closer and that you were even more attached. After all of these years, you are still mourning her. I think you need help dealing with your grief.”

            “I will always mourn her. She was the most wonderful and loving person I’ve ever known. She was the only one who ever loved me unconditionally. My father loves me, but with expectations that have to be met; my mother just wanted me to be happy. She was always there for me. She even came to visit me almost every weekend at school, just because she missed me. No one has ever missed me like that,” Draco said, tears forming in his eyes. He took in a large gulp of breath, before continuing. “I miss her so much every single day.”

            “I know. That’s why I think you need to do this. I, er, have something I want to give you, but it’s dangerous. You can’t keep it, or it will drive you insane. Just one time and then I need to lock it up so that it never sucks another person in. I can’t lose you. The children and I need you too much. We love you too much.”

            “What are you on about, Harry?”

            “I have the Peverell Stone. That’s why you need help for your grief, because I want to let you see your mother one last time, but I don’t think you are ready for it.”

            “You have _The_ Stone?” Draco had a look of wonder and amazement on his face. I nodded. “How?”

            “It was one of Voldemort’s Horcruxes. Dumbledore destroyed the Horcurx and gave it to me in his will. I used it to see my parents again during the final battle, when I had to walk into the Forbidden Forest to meet Voldemort. I dropped it there and never went back for it until now.”

            “But you went back now?”

            “Yes, because I realized you need it. I still feel bad for lying to you and it occurred to me that this was what I need to do to make things right.”

            “Didn’t those ethics classes teach you anything? I already told you that you have your head on backwards on this.”

            “Yes, I know. Morally, I did the right thing by lying to you,” I lied. I didn’t want to get into this discussion again. If a situation where one of us lied ever came up again, we’d have to deal with our very different perspectives on the issue, but for now, it was best swept under the rug. As an Auror, I was an excellent judge of when someone was telling the truth, so I knew Draco wasn’t keeping anything from me. He told the truth by default and only lied to other people about his memory loss. “But I still want to do this for you, because I think you need closure.”

            Draco enveloped me in a big hug then, burying his head in my neck. “Thank you _so much_ for doing this,” he whispered into my ear. “You always surprise me by finding ways to make me love you even more.”

            “I love you too,” I replied, returning the hug and placing a kiss to his blond head.

            “But there is something more I need.”

            “What?”

            “I need to see her twice,” Draco said.

            I pulled back, to look into his face. “That’s a slippery slope.”

            “I know, but only twice, I promise. I need the children to see her. I need to see her first, so I can pull myself together, and then I need them to see her, so they can see how wonderful she is for themselves. And we need to capture it in a memory ball, so my father can see it and so Cissa can see it when she’s old enough to remember. And you should bring Teddy; she’ll want to meet him too.”

            There was a look of hope and joy on his face, just considering it. I couldn’t dash that hope or crush that joy, so I capitulated. “Alright, but only twice and you have to go to grief counseling. I’ll show you when the counselor says you are ready. Then we’ll show the children and after that, I am going to bury that stone so far down that it will never be found again. Or better yet, I’ll throw it into an active Volcano and return it to Death himself.”

            What followed then was a lecture from Draco about destroying priceless irreplaceable wizarding relics. The idea of destroying the Peverell Stone was like blowing up the pyramids or burning the Mona Lisa to a muggle. Eventually I agreed not to destroy the stone, but to go back to my original plan of hiding it. I didn’t tell Draco, but during this lecture I had the brilliant idea to hide it in a dragon’s nest and let the dragons of the Hebrides Islands protect it. It would be safer there than in the forest outside the school, where any adventurous school child could stumble across it.

            And so in the middle of planning our return to Malfoy Cave, Draco started attending grief counseling. And now that I had promised Draco he could see her, I had to make sure for myself I could keep that promise. The stone worked for my parents, so it should work for his mother, but I had to be certain. And I wanted to know what she would say.

            I ventured alone into the forest around Malfoy Manor and used the stone to call Narcissa. She didn’t come. It wasn’t like when I called my loved ones and they just came out of the stone, memory made real. There was a whoosh of air and then nothing. No ghostly spirit wispping about; no nearly solid shade; nothing. “Narcissa!” I called, for good measure. “Narcissa, come out please! I need to talk to you about Draco!”

            That must have coaxed her out, because I heard a hollow voice in the wind, “I cannot come for you; only Draco and Lucius. I am part of them, not you.”

            “But you can come for Draco, can’t you? You can materialize, like my parents did?” I asked, but got no response.

            I turned the stone over three more times and called her again. “Narcissa! I need to talk to you. I’m going to give the stone to Draco to call you.” No answer. I turned and called again. “Narcissa Malfoy! Draco needs you. And I need to know what you will say if I give him the stone.”

            “I will say what he needs to hear,” the wind whispered. Finally Narcissa was back.

            “And what’s that?” I asked.

            “I cannot know until I am near him.”

            “You aren’t always with him?” I was under the impression that Draco felt his mother’s spirit on a daily basis.

            “No.”

            “Draco thinks that you are always with him, even if we can’t see you.”

            “That is what he wants to think. I will confirm it, if he needs me to,” Narcissa replied.

            “Not the truth then?” Nothing, no response. I turned the stone over three more times and called, “Narcissa!”

            “Not the truth,” she finally answered.

            “Will you tell me the truth? Have you been reincarnated into my daughter, Baby Cissa?”

            “No, I have not. I am not of your world any longer. I could not be. It doesn’t work like that.”

            “Will you tell Draco that?”

            “Yes, if it is what he needs to hear. Otherwise, I will not answer.”

            “And you can be real for him?” I asked, but again there was no answer. Three more turns with the stone. “Narcissa! Answer me!”

            “Stop calling me. I will come for him. I cannot come for you. I don’t belong in this world with you. I do not belong to you.”

            Well she wasn’t entirely pleasant and not nearly as nice as her portrait was, but if she would come for Draco, then I had the answer I was looking for. She’d also said she wasn’t possessing Cissa’s body, which was something I wished Draco to know. And her promise to tell him only what he needed to hear met my approval. It was a little disconcerting to know that she was willing to lie about her spirit being with him, but in a way it was also relieving to know that she wouldn’t break Draco of his illusions if he wasn’t ready for it. And I didn’t think he was ready to hear any of that about her not being of this world…

 

* * *

 

 

            By the time we got the all clear to return to the island from the Ministry, Draco was ready to move back. Anticipating the move, he’d gotten out his catalogues and mail order forms and ordered a ridiculous amount of supplies for the cave; new linens for all our rooms, crates of toiletries and cleaning supplies, barrels of juice, large sacks of grains, and even a new pair of chickens and a pet bat. Bats, he said, were very intelligent creatures that could be trained to deliver messages almost as well as owls. Bats could island hop and travel over oceanic channels onto the mainland. And bats had the added advantage of being cave creatures, who wouldn’t mind the island.

            I did a bit of preparing for the move myself, working on anticipating the needs Draco wouldn’t consider. First of all, I didn’t want to be cut off from all our friends and family. His mental health depended on having what was left of his family around him. The loss of his mother was a critical blow to his mental stability and he couldn’t lose another relative by being isolated on the island; not when said relative could go with us. The easiest way to accomplish this was to talk to Iona and ask her to go with us. The old woman preferred to stay at Malfoy Manor, but since travel between the two was still difficult, she agree to come for now.

            Even with the conflict at an end, the Ministry was leaving the anti-apparition ward up on the island and said that the locals could expect the ward to stay in place for around five years, give or take, depending on the threat level. It needed to remain in place as a deterrent to any remaining uncaptured terrorists and anyone else who might try to recapture the place. After all, the island had been ridiculously easy to breach at the beginning of the conflict and now any two-bit criminal would try it as an easy hideout if they could. Thus the ward needed to stay in place until people forgot about the purely wizarding island.

            Without apparition, the islanders would be in the same boat of being trapped on the island as before, only now it was safe for boats and brooms to cross the channel to the mainland. On the plus side, portkeys from the Ministry’s Shelter on the Mainland to the interior of the island were now available. Portkeys had to be created at their point of destination, so after the terrorists were cleared out, a portkey expert was finally allowed to come in to create them. Then the portkeys were transported to the shelter, where they would be most needed, since the majority of the island residents had no choice but to stay there. Refugees were now lining up in droves to take a portkey home.

            But portkey travel would never be a means of regular travel; they were simply too costly for that. What was needed was floo travel. Setting up the initial line was extremely expensive and the residents of the island had never before agreed to pay for it. Besides the Malfoys, the residents weren’t known for their wealth. There were a few other wealthy families who used the island for vacation homes in the summer, but none of them had been trapped on the island during the conflict, because they had all just gone back to their main homes. The permanent residents were mainly subsistence farmers or members of the lower middle class. They weren’t the type of people who could shell out the huge amount of money necessary to make an overseas floo connection.

            Therefore my main pet project during the month that preceded our return was to contact the refugees and the part-time residences who owned summer homes on the island and ask them to join my effort it establishing a floo connection to the island. Once a mainline was brought in, it would be much easier to hook an individual cave up to the mainline. And if everyone contributed to the cost of the mainline, then it would lessen the burden. I knew that the refugees wouldn’t be able to pay for it by themselves, but if the wealthier part-time residents kicked in more than their share, it would cover at least half of the cost. Draco and I could split the remaining cost.

            The benefit of paying more of the cost than anyone else on the island was that we got to choose the location of the thing. The easiest solution was to pick a cave near the shore closest to the mainland, so that the route would be as short as possible and only a minimum of rock would have to be tunneled through. Even with magic, creating a small tunnel big enough for the mainline floo connection large enough to serve the entire island was hard work. But a floo connection by the shore would mean that it would be harder for people who lived on the other shore up on the northern end of the island to both make the journey to use the public floo and to tunnel a floo connection all of the way to their own cave. And a secondary floo connection has to be thinner than the mainline, so it might be necessary to run multiple secondary lines north and east, increasing the cost for anyone not on the south or eastern parts of the island. In addition, there is the additional time needed to create all of these tunnels, so that it might take the better part of a year for the furthest reaches to receive coverage, and months for Malfoy Cave.

            I personally needed a way to travel to the mainland on a regular basis and would find flying from Malfoy Valley to a location on the south eastern coast inconvenient. First of all, I wanted to be able to see Teddy several times a week, but Teddy had school on the mainland, so he and Dromeda couldn’t just come stay with us for a few months. Then there was my job. I was to return to work soon and although there were positions still available for Auror work on the island, mainly to guard the place in case of further attack, I would still need to show up at headquarters between once a week and once per month. Finally, there were our friends and Draco’s father still on the mainland that we wanted to visit with. I wanted to see Ron, Hermione, the Weasleys and my various other friends, while he had the Notts and Goyles to visit; all of which would be possible with a close floo connection. Lucius was still in the Ministry’s Secure Holding Facility in London and Draco was of the habit of taking the family to see him once or twice per week. He desperately needed that connection to his family, so I was not keen on severing that connection. Lucius kept him grounded and sane; the isolation of the island led to increased spiritualism and irrational thoughts about re-incarnating his mother. Therefore we needed a floo connection as fast as possible.

            The quickest and most convenient solution, especially for us, was to order the mainline drilled all the way up into the mountains in the center of the island. I managed to convince Draco to donate a fair sized cave near the entrance to Malfoy Valley to the cause. The cave would then be the third site on the island deemed the property of the public—the first being the site where the list of the Dragon Kissed carves itself and the second being the library of the Dragon Spiritualists—and people from all over the island would be able to use it. Being centrally located, it would provide a fairer distribution of floo service. All we needed to do in preparation was to order our elves to build a fireplace in the cave. With the cave right in our backyard, I’d be able to floo to the mainland as often as I wanted. And so that was what I worked on for my part of the move back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was going to include the visit with Narcissa and the epilogue, but this chapter was already getting so long, so I decided to stop here. Narcissa and the epilogue are still to come. What do you think about the fact that Narcissa cannot come for Harry? I like the idea that the dead belong to those who loved them in life. They live on in our memory and for Narcissa, that means Draco and Lucius.   
> Please Review!


	32. Chapter32

            After talking with Draco’s new grief counselor, we had decided to wait to use the Peverell Stone until a month after our move back to Malfoy Cave. The move was just over two months out from when Draco had started counseling, which gave him three months to deal with his grief and mentally prepare for seeing his mother one last time. And with the dragon magic in Malfoy Valley, it was the place Draco felt most spiritually connected to her. Even though Narcissa Malfoy had never stepped foot on the island, it was the one place Draco felt she belonged. He said that in his cave, he could feel her presence looking over him and her voice whispering in his ear. So it had to be the place where he saw her again. After talking to her spirit, I knew it was all in his head, but I wasn’t willing to tell him that.

            The week of the move in early May was a busy one. Elves were transporting supplies in and trash out like mad. A landscaping crew was brought in to beautify the valley and cremate the dead dragons, except for one. I had one deceased dragon frozen in place, with plans to turn it into a memorial to commemorate all of the humans, merpeople, and dragons who had died during the conflict.

            Normally Ron and Hermione would help me with a move, but she was in the first trimester of pregnancy. It was their first baby and she was at that stage where she was puking constantly, so he needed to stay home to help her. I was very excited for them. The other Weasleys and my other friends came to help, so it all worked out in the end.

            The island was experiencing a bout of pleasant late spring weather, and with the Weasleys helping out, there were half a dozen extra children hanging around. Iona, being too old to be much use in a move, ended up supervising while the children went outside and played in the sun. They explored the valley and collected dragon teeth along the way, making a game of who could find the most teeth. Molly then showed them how to make necklaces out of the teeth. Each child kept one and the extra were auctioned off, the funds to be put into a charity to help rebuild the island. Dragon teeth are valuable and these were war relics turned into jewelry by the Potter and Weasley children, so they each fetched a good sum. There were many people too poor to repair their damaged property and it was nice to help them out.

            Iona moved in with us at first, but by the floo system was soon operational. She agreed to stay a little longer, to help us with the transition, but Malfoy Manor was her home, where she had lived her entire adult life with her husband and her son. She missed it and soon returned home.

 

* * *

 

 

            It was a Sunday afternoon in June, with all of the children down for their naps, when Draco announced, “Okay, I’m ready to see my mother now.”

            “Are you sure? We can always do this later, if you’re not ready,” I replied, studying his face for signs of conviction.

            He looked sure and he nodded. “Yes, I’m ready. Let’s do this in my drawing room.”

            “Alright, I’ll meet you there. Let me get the stone from its hiding place first.”

            He gave a curt nod and I took off through the floo. I didn’t want to risk Draco stumbling across the stone and using it by himself, so I’d locked it in a Gringotts vault. Thus the quick floo trip to Diagon Alley—thanks to my work building the floo connection to the island—the apparition to the front doors of the bank, the wild and crazy ride to my vault, and the equally long return trip. A full hour of precious naptime passed before I reappeared out the other end of the fireplace in Draco’s drawing room, ring in hand.

            Draco took the stone from me with a look of awe and excitement on his face. He flicked his wand in the direction of a memory ball, which he’d already set up to record this. Having grown up in the wizarding world and hearing the stories since birth, he knew exactly what do to with the stone. He turned it over three times and then the ethereal form of Narcissa emerged from the stone and materialized into a solid form. She looked older than the last time I’d seen her, signs of illness evident on her face, but she was definitely there, unlike when I’d called her and gotten only the voice of wind.

            “Mother?” Draco asked softly, reaching a hand out.

            “Yes Draco, it’s me,” Narcissa said, reaching her own hand out to stroke his face.

            “Were you with Cissa? Did you come from the nursery?” Draco asked.

            “No, I was here with you. You need me more. I am where you are,” she answered.

            “But Cissa, she’s supposed to be a vessel for your spirit.”

            “She has her own spirit. She loves you just as much as I do. Broderick, Roadrick, and Teddy love you too. Your father and grandmother love you. Even Harry here loves you. You are in good hands, my precious Dragon. But even so, when I left this world, I left my love in your heart. I left my essence imprinted in your brain. You are the one I belong with. You are the vessel for my spirit. You always have been and you always will be. That is the way I want it.”

            Draco was sobbing now, clutching onto to the shade that comprised his mother’s form. “I’ll make another vessel,” he choked out, between sobs.

            “Please do. You have wonderful children, Draco. I’ve seen them. They will make you as happy as you made me. But, I will not possess one of them, no matter how close of a copy you make. My place is with you and with you I will stay,” Narcissa replied.

            Draco was too emotional to talk now, tears running down his checks at his mother’s words, his breathing shallow and rapid.

            “Is your spirit always here with Draco, only we can’t see it?” I asked, encouraging the lie I thought she’d tell.

            “No, most of the time I go on. It’s hard to describe. This place feels wrong to me and without the stone, I can never get more than a whisper into this world. Even now I feel myself being pulled away,” she answered. It was more of the truth than I thought Draco was ready for, but maybe she knew her son better than I did.

            “And where do you go? What’s it like?” I asked, my own curiosity regarding my parents and Sirius provoking the question.

            “On. Just on. It’s not like anything much at all. It’s impossible to explain. But there is one more thing I need to tell Draco, before I’m pulled away again.” And already she was dissolving, mere wisps wafting away.

            Draco looked at his mother’s face with rapt attention, memorizing every detail of her message. He nodded for her to tell him, letting her know he was ready.

            “I’m sorry for leaving you. I love you with all of my heart and leaving you was the hardest thing I ever had to do. But I couldn’t stay then, just like I cannot stay now. I’m so very sorry, my Dragon.” And then Narcissa was gone, nothing but a bit of mist left where she’d been.

            “I love you, Mother,” Draco managed to get out, tears still falling.

            Now all that was left was to repeat the process with the children. Only, I knew from the expression on his face that he wasn’t ready to face that today. And from what Narcissa said about it being hard to inhabit our world, I doubted she’d be ready for another bout of it this soon. Thus I slipped the stone into my pocket and wrapped my arms around Draco, intent on comforting him. I had expected him to fall to pieces like this, but I could only hope that in the aftermath, we could put the pieces back together and he’d be all the stronger for it. His grief counseling would help with it too.

 

* * *

 

 

            It was two weeks before Draco was ready to see his mother again. This time he was determined not to break down in front of the children and instead stand strong and proud as he introduced the most wonderful person he’d ever known to the children he loved unconditionally…he even loved Cissa when her hair was red, although he still preferred it not to be.

            We gathered in one of the larger drawing rooms, meant for hosting small parties. And it would be a small party, given everyone who was coming. Teddy, Roadrick, Broderick, and Cissa obviously, but Dromeda and Iona too. Dromeda came with Teddy to support her family, because she was Narcissa’s sister. Iona was preparing to move back to Malfoy Manor now that we were all settled, but she promised she would floo over regularly. As Draco’s grandmother and Narcissa’s mother-in-law, she was tied to Narcissa and took her place among our gathering. Finally, Lucius came, a special visit I had put some effort into arranging. As her husband, Lucius was one of the few people still alive who loved her fiercely and unconditionally. Narcissa herself had said that Lucius was the only other person, besides Draco, to whom her spirit belonged. So Lucius had to come.

            We gathered together, the three boys sitting on one long sofa with Dromeda on one end by Teddy’s side, and Iona on the other, by Broderick’s side. Lucius sat alone on a settee holding Cissa. Draco and I stood together in the center with the stone. I kept my hand on Draco’s shoulder, offering my support and encouragement.

            Draco took a deep breath and asked the room, “Is everyone ready?”

            “Now pay attention boys! Grandmother Narcissa is about to appear!” Dromeda instructed.

            “Roadrick, stop picking your nose. Straighten your back Broderick. We must look our best,” Iona said.

            Roadrick quickly wiped his bugger on his trousers and Broderick sat up straighter.

            “I’m activating the memory crystal,” I announced and sent a flick of magic from my wand off in the direction of the small crystal ball. It flashed blue momentarily, letting me know it was recording. This day would go in our collection of days for our family to remember forever.

            “Go ahead son,” Lucius said warmly.

            Draco nodded and gave the stone three turns, but Narcissa didn’t materialize out of the stone. Every time before, the shade had solidified from mist released by the stone, but not this time. For an instant I though it hadn’t worked, but then I heard the gasp from Lucius. All heads turned in Lucius’ direction to see Narcissa sitting on the settee by his side, the body of her shade curled into his. One of her arms was draped around his neck, her head was snuggled into the crook of his shoulder, and her other hand was resting on his, where he held Baby Cissa by the waist, bouncing her on his knee.

            “Hello love,” Narcissa whispered into Lucius’ ear.

            Lucius gasped and replied, “Hello dear,” letting the Malfoy mask slip and his emotions show on his face. There was awe and surprise, but most of all love. Here was the woman he had loved his entire life, finally returned to him.

            “I feel like I could stay here, in this room, with all of you. Everyone who ties me to this Earth is here. You pull me back. Lucius, you and Draco draw me. Whenever the two of you are together, I feel the pull to check in and see what you are doing. It makes me happy to see you taking care of each other.”

            “I’m glad. I miss you so much darling. There is not a day that goes by when I do not long for your presence. I will love you forever.” Then in a lower voices, Lucius whispered, “I think about joining you one day.”

            “Do not join me anytime soon. Draco needs you too much. If you join me, there is a chance Draco will follow after you. You cannot let that happen. Our grandchildren need him here with them, so you must stay and make sure he stays,” Narcissa said.

            “I will stay,” Lucius promised.

            “And I will be waiting for you when you do join me. But Lucius? If you have the chance of happiness on this Earth without me, take it. I want you to be happy and no matter what, I will still be waiting for you at the end,” Narcissa said.

            Lucius nodded, too choked up to continue.

            Narcissa extricated herself from her husband’s side, rose gracefully, and glided over to the sofa. She stood in front of Dromeda and bent down to clasp her white hands around the living flesh of her sister’s hands. “I love you older sis. I forgive you for leaving me with Bella and our parents. It was too late to save me anyway; I was already in love with Lucius.”

            “Is Bella there with you?” Dromeda asked.

            “No, she is not here. There is nothing left of her or Tom. They destroyed themselves too thoroughly. Mother and Father are with me though and your Dora. Her Lupin is a bit shabby, but tolerable. Our parents regret not getting to know her sooner. It’s a shame they waited until death to meet their granddaughter, but they are making up for lost time. We are all together and happy,” Narcissa said.

            “I’m glad. What about my Ted? Isn’t he with Dora?” Dromeda asked.

            “Yes, when she is not with us. He comes too, but our parents still aren’t fond of him. Your Dora also goes off with her friends sometimes. There are a lot of us on the other side; she is not alone,” Narcissa answered.

            “I wish things could have been different between us. I wish we could have reconciled before you passed,” Dromeda said.

            “I know, but it wasn’t your fault. It was our parents and the situation, and it was partly me. Take care of my family and consider all forgiven. I will watch out for yours,” Narcissa replied and her sister promised the same. “Oh and dear sister, you are ill. Make an appointment with your healer for a full checkup, or you will soon be joining me. I do not wish for dear Edward to lose you too.”

            Dromeda was too shocked to respond.

            With that proclamation finished, Narcissa moved down the line to Teddy and kneeled down to look into the young boy’s face. “Edward, do not be scared. If your grandmother sees her healer now, she will live a long and healthy life. She will be there to see you grow up.” She paused and Teddy nodded. “You are the oldest; you will be the leader. Lead your brothers and sisters in a good direction. Be a good wizard, like your mother and father, and teach my grandchildren to be good by example. I am putting my trust in you. Do not take that lightly; I want to inspire you to think about all that you can be and all of the great things you can do. You _can_ and _will_ do them.”

            “Are you my grandma?” Teddy asked.

            “Better, I am your grandma’s little sister. But you can call me grandma if you want,” Narcissa replied.

            “Thank you Grandma,” Teddy replied.

            Narcissa skipped the twins and went instead to Iona. “Mother Malfoy, thank you for holding the family together. I know you feel the pressure to move on. Every time someone else passes before you and you lose one more, you think you cannot bear to see yet another go. You think you should be next, but you are needed here longer. You must stand strong; you will see a great many more Malfoys born and you need to be here to greet them.”

            “What about Abraxas? My husband needs me,” Iona replied.

            “Abraxas has you. He never leaves your side,” Narcissa lied.

            I recognized the lie, because we had discussed this very issue. Iona must have needed to hear the untruth.

            “He is, isn’t he?” Iona asked, placing her own hand on her shoulder, where she felt the non-existent touch of her late husband.

            “Yes,” Narcissa confirmed, before moving on to Broderick. She pulled him up by his hands, encouraging him to stand tall and proud. “You, Broderick, will be the next Lord Malfoy. You will be a kind lord and bring honor back to your family with your great deeds. You will be the first of a great line of Lord Malfoys to come. Never forget your duty to your family.”

            “I won’t Grandmother,” Broderick replied, awed into respectful behavior, despite his young age.

            “You may sit again,” Narcissa said and Broderick retook his place between his twin and his great grandmother. Narcissa moved in front of Roadrick, kneeled down, and stroked his blond hair. “Roadrick, you are brilliant. You are one smart little boy and you will grow up to be a very wise and powerful wizard. You have something your brother does not; something your father never had either. You are _free_. Free of the title Lord Malfoy. Free of obligations. Free to be brilliant. _You_ will make this family the envy of all others. You will create. You will make this world better. You have a purpose and you are needed.”

            “I won’t be Lord Malfoy too?” Roadrick asked, eyes wide.

            “No, you will be something better than Lord Malfoy; something greater; something grander. You are my grandson and it is up to you to do everything your father and brother cannot do, because of the restrictions of being Lord Malfoy. Can you do that? Can you be greater Roadrick Malfoy?” Narcissa asked.

            Roadrick nodded and answered, “Yes, Grandmother.”

            “Good boy.” Narcissa kissed the top of Roadrick’s head and then bestowed similar kisses on Broderick and Teddy, before moving back to the settee. She retook her place next to her husband and looked into the baby face of her granddaughter. “You Narcissa, my namesake, you are loved. You are the Potter heir—the only Potter of your generation—and you will rebuild the Potter name into what it once was. You will make the Potters great again. Never let anything hold you back.”

            “Pap?” Cissa asked, confused. Pap was her name for Lucius, whose arms she was still in. Being only nine and a half months old at this point, she had a very limited understanding of what was going on.

            “This is your grandmother Narcissa, Cissa. You were named after her,” Lucius explained.

            Then Narcissa stood and approached Draco. “I cannot stay much longer, but there is one grandchild of mine missing from this gathering; someone who is not here yet. Call Severus, Draco. He has seen her.”

            “He has?” Draco asked.

            “Yes, he has.” Narcissa smiled and wrapped her arms around her son. “Draco, this is the last time you will see me for a very long time. You need to stand strong. You must take care of your family. The entire family comes down to you. You can do it. Your children are wonderful. Bring the family together in gatherings like this more often; it will help me see them all. I will not materialize again, but although you will not be able to see me, my presence will be here. I will always come when you need me. And again, my biggest regret in this world in leaving you. I’m so sorry for that my son. I love you.”

            “It’s okay Mother. I forgive you. I never held it against you. I just love you too much,” Draco replied.

            Narcissa pulled back, letting Draco free from the hug and taking his hands in hers instead. “And you couldn’t bear to let me go, I know. But you are stronger now. You can let go. You have everyone here in this room to help you. Stay in this world Draco; it’s better here and your children need you. It doesn’t matter if you live a million years, because I will still be waiting for you at the end. And in fact, you will be my last tie to this Earth. Once you join me, I will no longer be able to come back here, not even to check on my grandchildren. So stay Draco. Live a long and healthy life. And most importantly, my son, be happy. Can you do that for me?” she asked.

            “Yes, for you Mother, I will do anything,” Draco answered.

            “Call Severus. I have to go now; I am being pulled away. I love you all.” Narcissa was starting to fade, she gave Draco one last quick embrace as she spoke, before dashing towards Lucius. She reached her husband, lips puckered for a kiss, just as her time ended and she faded away. Lucius raised one hand to his mouth, touching his lips, where he could still feel her kiss touching his skin.

            The only person Narcissa hadn’t had a message for was me. My message was yet to come.

            Draco called, “I love you, Mother,” a moment too late. He shook the fog from his head and then wasted no time in turning the stone three more times and calling his favorite teacher. “Professor Snape!”

            “Draco!” The shade of Severus Snape appeared, emerging from the stone in the typical fashion. He looked as he did in life, only there was one feature incongruous with how the wizard had been: the shade was smiling. It was a wide happy smile. When he turned, the smile turned on me too. It gave me a creepy feeling in the pit of my stomach. “Harry! Son! Why did you not call your mother too? She’s right here with me. We are always together.” Snape couldn’t help but gloat about that one. James Potter may have won in life, but Severus Snape had won in death. He had been the one to protect Lily’s son and that meant everything to the witch he loved. His time of punishment and of reparations had ended. Now it was his time to experience that emotion that had come so rarely to him in life: happiness.

            “You are?” I asked surprised. This wasn’t part of the plan. We weren’t supposed to call anyone else. This wasn’t supposed to break down into a session of calling everyone we’d ever lost. Already Draco was using the stone too much. I wanted to see my parents, Sirius, Remus, Tonks, Fred, and Dumbledore, but I had to remain strong. It was a slippery slope and I could not afford to let Death draw me in. I would not call my mother, no matter how Death baited me. And surely this must be Death’s doing, because Severus Snape was incapable of smiling.

            “Yes. Oh, I guess I should tell you that my presence has upset the balance of things on this side. Your father is still a selfish, rotten, imbecile and a bully. The advantage of this side of life, however, is perspective, and now my precious Lily has it too,” Severus said.

            “What?” I asked, confused. At this point I didn’t believe that this was the real Snape.

            “Oh yes, your father went back to his childish taunting and your mother protected me. She grew sick of him; after decades with the man, anyone would. She left him. We are happier now that it’s just the three of us,” Severus said.

            “The three of you?” Draco asked.

            “Four for a while, but three right now. Lily and I put our brain power together and discovered a way into the other dimension; the one with the unborn children. We were with Cissa for years before she was born. Now we are with your next daughter. She has my hair and Lily’s eyes. Lily and I like to pretend she is ours. Sure she has all of your mother’s other features, instead of my Lily’s, but they are both beautiful. She bares my name. That is why I asked your mother, Draco, to have you contact me: I would like to leave my worldly possessions to my granddaughter and namesake. Contact me with a lawyer after she is born and I will have it arranged. Oh, and Potter, your mother sends her love. Don’t make things hard for her, will you? She already put up with an eternity with your father; you cannot expect her to spend another eternity with the man at the expense of her happiness.”

            “Ah…” I said, speechless. I still couldn’t quite believe this was for real.

            “Right, the message. My granddaughter will be the light of the next generation. She will be the balm who heals the wizarding world. Speaking of which, Lily and I have to get back to her,” Severus said.

            And then the shade was gone and I grabbed the stone away from Draco, before he could call anymore dead people.

            Whether the bit about Severus and my mother being together in death was true or whether it was just Severus having one last laugh at my father’s expense, I didn’t know. It might even have been a delusion of a dead man. I yearned to summon my mother and ask her, but I dared not. We had used the stone too much already and I would not let Death draw me in. I was the son of the third brother and I would not suffer the fate of the second brother. I would live. I would let time tell what will be.

 

* * *

* * *

* * *

 

 

Epilogue:

 

            Draco had been talking about getting pregnant again before we even got the all clear to return to the island. After hearing about our child to be from Severus, his obsession grew all of the more. All of his focus seemed to narrow in on the baby issue and it seemed to be on his mind constantly.

            “I know we already have a lot of children, but I just want one more. Three boys and two girls would be good. There have been a lot of losses in this family and among the purebloods in general; it really is for the greater good to repopulate. Otherwise, the muggles and muggleborns will take over and overrun us. Besides, girls don’t require a grand inheritance. We’ll just have to be sure that they marry well,” Draco said, rationalizing this decision more to himself than to me. These were not at all the reasons I would give for having another child.

            “It would be nice to have another little girl. I’ve always wanted a large family and have room in my heart for another. You and I make beautiful babies and I can’t wait to see what the next one will look like and be like. Besides, Cissa could use a girl to play with; there are too many boys in this family,” I said, giving my reasons to have another child.

            “What do you think we should name her?” Draco asked, getting ahead of himself. “Maia, after my mother? Or a flower, like Dahlia or Asphodel?”

            I thought it was rather magnanimous of him to ask my opinion on the subject, given that he hadn’t even bothered informing me that Cissa was mine until she was here.

            “I don’t know. Professor Snape said she would be his namesake,” I replied.

            “Somehow I cannot see naming a girl Severus Hadrian Malfoy.”

            “He may have just been messing with us.”

            “Or trying to influence us,” Draco said and I agreed. “This is our decision, not his.”

            “Absolutely. Maybe Lily, after my mother. Though I would have an easier time naming boys,” I admitted. “I have a large number of wizards in my life who died for me, besides Snape. I’d love to name a child after any of them; my father, Dumbledore, and Moody being just a few.” Cissa’s middle name was Isis, in honor of Sirius, so we already had a child named after my godfather.

            “Maybe we could feminize a masculine name, although I do not see how to do so with Severus Snape,” Draco conceded.

            Draco went through the list and together we came up with a large number of suggestions for feminizing the names of the men who sacrificed their lives for me, most of which were rejected. Both Scrophula and Antirrhinum, the scientific names for the Dog Flower, chosen both for Sirius and for the botanical names of our mothers, I ruled out for being ridiculously hard to pronounce and sounding stupid. I turned down Wulfrica and Percivalia, after Dumbledore, for obvious reasons and countered with Brianna or Alba, which he turned down for being common muggle names. Jamie, Jaclyn, Alice, and Allison, the first two after my father and the second too after Alastor Moody, were also ruled out for the same reason. I might’ve pushed the point on Alice, if Neville’s little girl hadn’t already been named that.

            After a while, we grew tired of names. “We can decide later. I do hope she looks even more like my mother than Cissa,” Draco said, changing the subject.

            “Cissa _already_ looks exactly like your mother, down to the blue eyes being the same exact shade of blue,” I replied.

            “Not _exactly_ ,” Draco retorted, but with a tone that seemed to concede the point that our daughter was a very close match.

            We already had a daughter that was the spitting image of his mother, so I personally preferred the idea of having a daughter who looked a bit like my mother too. Or maybe add some of Draco’s or my own features into the mix. Although, I didn’t want to risk him freaking out and rejecting another baby and I knew without a doubt that his motivation to procreate was to recreate his mother. Thus I didn’t want to tear the image he’d been creating away from him, but tweak it slightly. “How about she looks mostly like your mother, but my hair and eyes, like Snape said. Maybe something of yours too, like that handsome sharp chin of yours,” I suggested.

            “Alright, I could handle that. But not my chin; I want her to have my mother’s chin,” Draco said conceding and retracting the concession in the same sentence.

            I gave an amused chuckle, having grown fond of everything about him, even his peculiarities.

 

* * *

 

 

Nine Months Later:

 

            Draco tipped the silver framed face down and asked, “Now, what does her brow look like?” He was referring to his mother, whose photo was inside the frame he was making me study. He’d taken to making me study it every Saturday and Sunday afternoon for a month now. It was important to him and the children were outside playing, so I indulged him. At least I was back working during the week, flooing into the Ministry from the Malfoy Cave, so there were only two days a week for such activities.

            I thought about it and answered, “Pointy, like yours and Cissa’s.”

            “Our brows are not _pointy_. My father’s is pointy. Ours are _elegant_ ,” he corrected with a huff.

            “Honestly, I could probably _draw_ your mother from memory. Can we just skip to the sex?” I playfully pecked his cheek.

            “No, you’re not taking this seriously. You have to concentrate.”

            It was no use telling him that I didn’t want to concentrate on his mother during sex. He was bound and determined that we were to focus on the image of his mother during the conception of our next child. That was what had gone wrong in Cissa’s conception: we hadn’t been focusing on Narcissa. He’d gotten it in his head that if we willed it hard enough, our fifth child would be his mother reincarnated, despite what the shade of the witch had told him about that not happening. He would admit that she’d said it if asked, but then revert right back to acting as if she hadn’t said it. Maybe he needed to hear it, but he hadn’t processed it yet. Though there was hope that someday he’d turn those words over in his head and realize that reincarnation wasn’t possible.

            I say fifth child, counting Teddy, because both he and Dromeda lived with us now. She had been diagnosed with cancer during the summer, her late sister’s prophecy coming true. They caught in time, but my godson had come to live with us. Cancer was a treatable disease in the magical world, but it took time to treat and during that time the patient was made ill. She’d gone to stay with Molly so that Molly good take care of her and Teddy had come here. By the time she was feeling better, Teddy was settled in here, so she’d moved in with us. There was more than enough room.

            When school started in September, Draco had arranged for Teddy to attend school on the island with Broderick and Roadrick. The local school wasn’t good enough and Draco had wanted to hire a tutor for the three boys. But I insisted that they needed the social interaction, because after all, the twins were starting Kindergarten. We’d compromised by hiring two teachers who were both paid to work in the local island school. They were conveniently assigned Kindergarten and third grade, so that our children got the benefit of first rate teachers, while learning to interact with the other children. There was some grumbling about the situation from parents of children not in the lucky grades, especially because Draco was supplementing the cost of educational material for the entire third grade and Kindergarten classes. But ultimately it was his money to fling around as he willed and he viewed our children’s education as a very high priority and not that of the neighbor kids.

            Draco wrinkled his brow and asked, “ _Would_ you like to draw her? Do you think that would help?”

            I rolled my eyes and shrugged. If I didn’t know how important this was to him, I wouldn’t indulge him so. But as it was, I knew that this absurd notion of recreating his mother was the whole reason we were having another child. It seemed unlikely to me that we would get closer to Narcissa than Cissa already was, but that wasn’t what I was after. I wanted the sex and liked the idea of having another little girl. Cissa was great, but Ron and Hermione had their first little girl, Rose, over the summer and were already planning a second, and I felt a desire to keep up. We had three boys, but I wanted another dainty princess for Cissa to play with. Cissa was already eighteen months old, so if we had another now, they would be the perfect distance apart. And Draco talked about it often enough that I couldn’t get the idea out of my head.

            For as much as Draco wanted another baby, he was forever changing his mind and thus the need for discussion. I would come home from work one day and he’d be on about how Cissa was getting too big and he needed a new baby to hold. Then the next day he’d say four kids were already too many and he was worried we were turning into the Weasleys. I’d spend an evening convincing him that we could never be the Weasleys and his fears assuaged, he’d go back to planning another baby. He’d pull out the photo of his mother and I, fearing another panic over our descent into Weasleydom, had taken to indulging him.

            “It would, wouldn’t it? I’ll summon the parchment and quill,” Draco answered his own question, before doing just that.

            And that was how I found myself drawing a rough sketch of the late Narcissa Malfoy on a Sunday afternoon. I would’ve preferred to be outside next to Dromeda, watching the four children play on the dragon playground. I was proud of that playground, having built it myself out of the remains of the dragon I’d frozen. Cissa had her little swing hanging from the tail bones and the boys loved to dart in the mouth, past the fearsome teeth, and through the bones of the ribcage, or slide down the stretchy material covering the spine and wing bones. It was my own little memorial to all the dragons who had died in the standoff and the children loved it.

            “There, is that good enough?” I asked, making the briefest of sketches.

            “Whoa, that’s better than I thought you could do. You must be more inarticulate than I thought.”

            I rolled my eyes at the backhanded compliment. “Does that mean we can go through with the sex part of our plan?”

            “No, we’re not nearly ready. Keep in mind that there are no second chances. If you mess up, I’m stuck pregnant for nine months before we even _know_. Then there will be eleven years before she goes off to Hogwarts and we can’t just disown her once she’s out of the house. That means we will have the maximum number of children and won’t be able to try again.” Where Draco came up with the maximum number of allowable children being five, I do not know. I suspected it was five, because we already had five and he wanted one more.          

            If the Dragon Spirits had any power at all, we would get another girl. When we talked, it was _always_ about having a girl. I didn’t even want to _think_ about what would happen if the baby came out a boy. Draco would probably blame me for giving our daughter a penis. Ron was all about wanting a boy this time around, but I wanted a girl, and not only because I would never hear the end of it otherwise. I knew what little Malfoy boys were like and besides, I already had three boys and didn’t need another.

            “Of course we can’t,” I agreed, leaving out the possibility of having a sixth child. That would be too Weasleyish to consider. I wouldn’t object if he wanted it, but no matter how many rooms were in our giant cave, I couldn’t see him suggesting it; not after the number of times he’d told me five was the maximum.

            “Right.” Draco turned the photo-frame over and compared it to my sketch. After a few minutes of study, he pointed back and forth to a difference. “You’ve got the cheekbones slightly off. You’ve drawn them too much like my father’s. The Black cheekbones aren’t quite so sharp.”

            I rolled my eyes and tried to fix it, but even with the picture right in front of me, drawing wasn’t my strong suit. Unfortunately, he caught the eye roll this time around.

            “If you aren’t going to take this seriously, then I’ll have the baby with myself,” he threatened.

            I was half tempted to agree, if only I could watch. But then I thought about the two troublesome boys that resulted from the last time he’d let the Dragon Spirit knock him up without me. And if Lucius was right, it would always be _twin_ boys. I wasn’t willing to risk having _two_ more little Draco’s around. The first three Draco’s were enough for this world.

            Lucius was still a regular part of our lives. With his continued good behavior and the press coverage of my involvement in his case, Draco had pushed to have his father’s sentence further reduced. Recently the Malfoy attorney had managed to have Lucius moved from the jail in London to a half-way house in Scotland. Lucius had to work in a factory with the other prisoners, but he was allowed to floo over to Malfoy Cave by himself five days a week. He spent the mornings with Draco, Dromeda, and Cissa while the boys attended school.

            “Alright, I’m taking this seriously,” I conceded, trying to adjust the angle of the cheekbone on my parchment. “But it would help if you showed me how.”

            That got me the result I wanted, as he leaned in, draped his back across me, and placed his hand over mine. He was a much better artist than me and instinctively guided the quill in the shape of his mother’s face. It wasn’t long before his hand fell away, a pleased smile on his face, and I took the opportunity to snog him senseless.

            I pulled away from him just long enough to suggest, “Maybe we could practice making the baby, you know, so we’re sure to get it right the first time.”

            He nodded and I pushed him onto his back, grinding my erection into his. He still loved to bottom and was a brilliant fuck, two things I didn’t think would ever change. There was nothing quite as sexually gratifying as the way he writhed and moaned in pleasure with my cock up his arse. Not even the thin film of the contraception charm could change how great it felt; contraception was always a must with sex on the island known for fertility, especially because Draco was four weeks into his estrus cycle. Six to eight weeks was the optimum time for fertilization, but until we were ready to make a baby, we needed contraception.

 

* * *

 

 

            Nine and a half months later, Hadrianna Lily Malfoy was born. Draco had come up with the perfect way to feminize Snape’s middle name, Hadrian, making Snape’s prophecy come true in the end. Lily was after my mother, since Cissa was name after Draco’s and just as Cissa had Narcissa’s blue eyes, Hadrianna had my mother’s green ones. Malfoy was because Cissa was a Potter. Little Hadrianna, as planned, was the spitting image of both Narcissas, except for the black hair, green eyes, chin that was just a bit more pointed, and nose that was just a bit hooked. Snape’s prediction again had come true with regards to her looks, although whether he had caused it to come true by planting the idea in our minds or because he actually had access to the dimension of unborn children, I never knew.

            Hadrianna’s chin was my fault, because during the sex act I’d slipped and thought of how hot Draco’s chin was. But Draco couldn’t hold that against me, because he’d slipped and thought of Snape’s hooked nose, so our daughter’s nose was his fault. Since that meant Draco had been thinking about Snape during sex with me, I teased him about it whenever the subject came up. Thus Draco avoided bringing it up and I was off the hook for the chin.

            Lucius hated when he heard us say our daughter had Snape’s nose. Snape was not a direct relative of ours, so Hadrianna couldn’t possibly have the wizard’s nose. The trait, in his opinion, came from his grandmother, Abraxas Malfoy’s mother. Elspeth Malfoy was born Elspeth Prince. She was a great aunt of Severus Snape’s and although her nose wasn’t anywhere near the size of Snape’s nose and not quite as hooked, she did in part share this trait with the late professor. From portraits of the late Elspeth, I learned that the witch did indeed have a nose almost identical to Hadrianna’s. Draco had thought of Professor Snape and the dragon magic had sifted through the available genetic material to produce Elspeth Malfoy’s nose on our daughter, as the closest match.

            It didn’t matter to me that Elspeth Malfoy had a hooked nose. When I studied my youngest daughter’s nose, I thought of Severus Snape, my greatest protector. In the end he had been the final one to die for me. He gave his life so that I could defeat Voldemort. And now a little bit of him, even if only part of his nose, had been passed on to my Hadrianna, his namesake and the person his shade claimed he wanted to leave everything to. The nose did look better on my daughter, if I do say so myself.

            And with the new addition, our family was complete and we lived happily ever after.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There! It was quite the adventure getting here, but it’s finally finished! I know I normally start posting a new story when I finish one, but due to months of illness, that will not be the case this time around. Next week I will begin work on the last chapter of my other story, Blood of the Spouse, Willingly Given, and I will continue working on Pulled in Two: Ginny versus Draco and Leo. Do not expect anything new from me until December, when I go on my annual vacation.  
> If you have enjoyed this story, please favorite and review!


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